Union
by Cygnus Crux
Summary: COMPLETED You are cordially invited... AU, since it builds on Existence after Life and Mind War.
1. Chapter I

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Disclaimer/Author's Note: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast books. Furthermore, certain plot elements, quotes, and character names, have been borrowed from several other sources. Call 'em if you see 'em. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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Union

Chapter 1

One week. One more week before she could call herself Mrs Potter. Seven short days until the big day, the first of August, Lughnasadh. And she didn't even have a dress yet. Nor had she taken care of the catering or chosen a Maiden.

"Relax, Ginny," Gudrun said in-between bites. "We'll help you sort all of this out. First off, you need to pick your bridesmaids and maid or matron of honour."

"Isn't that a Muggle custom?" Galatea asked, while she gently turned seven-week-old baby Henry around to give him access to her other breast.

"No, darling," a pregnant Janice Cliff-Faust said while she tried to feed her very stubborn eleven-month-old son, Peter. "Bridesmaids and groomsmen are a Roman tradition. They served as witnesses, and to make it harder for the evil spirits to find the real couple."

"I had something else in mind. Aside from the priest, Harry, and I, only six people are allowed to be in the inner circle during the ceremony. I still need to find four people to fill special roles in the ceremony. I suppose it could be two men and two women to keep it all even. And I have no idea who should give me away. I also still need a Maiden."

The three other women exchanged surprised looks.

"Haven't you asked Hermione?" Gudrun asked.

"I was going to, but it slipped my mind," Ginny said miserably. "She won't be back until two days before the wedding. And you know how she hates being given last minute notice like this."

"Speaking about late requests, I have one of my own," Galatea said. "My father was supposed to be in England to meet with a fellow botanical expert, but the wizard in question got an invitation to this wedding and—"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Neville?"

"Yes, Neville Longbottom."

Ginny nodded. She'd received a letter from him a week ago, in which he told her that he might not make it on account of a very important deal with a Muggle-born botanist. In a visit to Concordia the previous summer, Neville had discovered that the fruits of a Mirror Realm plant called Assassin Vine, a carnivorous plant, could make for a good but heady wine. The only problem at the time seemed to be that its fruits were just a tad too toxic. But Neville had also discovered that some specimens were more docile than others, and that their berries were less toxic. He'd been planning to cross-pollinate those specimens in the hope of creating a subspecies docile enough to harvest good grapes from. "So he was talking about your father!"

"Yes. Your friend chose my father because they get along well, and because my father has profound knowledge of wines since his relatives have been in the business for a very long time. My father says that he didn't want to keep your friend from attending the wedding, but due to their busy schedules, next week would be the only time they could meet and discuss business. They are in a hurry because someone else had the same idea, and could beat them to the creation of the product if they didn't get to work as soon as possible. But my father couldn't bear to deprive Mr Longbottom from attending the wedding of such dear friends, so he is asking if you could extend an invitation to him and his wife also."

There were many bad people out there who wished her and Harry harm—not that anyone stood a realistic chance of beating Harry, but many bystanders could be hurt during such an attempt. That was among the reasons why Concordia had been chosen as the location for the wedding. And in order to give potential evildoers as little time as possible to prepare, the invitations had been sent out as secretly as possible, and a mere month before the date of the wedding. Since access to Concordia required a six-month waiting period, the invitations also served as passes into the city.

"Couldn't commander Ironheart arrange passage?"

Galatea shook her head. "Maybe if someone had died, or for reunification of long lost family. Not for a reason like this, and certainly not on such short notice. There are limits to his influence."

Ginny smiled. She was sure that Harry would be all right with this. He'd be helping Neville, and Galatea's dad would be able to see his youngest grandson, while his new wife, who happened to be Heidi's mum, would get to visit her daughter. "Just tell me where the invitation should be sent."

"Are you going to eat that?" Gudrun asked. She'd already finished eating the last of her breakfast and was hungrily eyeing a slice of Galatea's French toast.

The house-elf who had been entertaining Little Robert and Rachel by making their toys zoom around the kitchen, piped up, "Hoover can make toast for mistress."

"There's no sense in wasting good food," Galatea said. "Go ahead."

Ginny giggled. She knew that Gudrun was eating for two again. "When are you due?"

"Late December or early January," Gudrun said, before taking a large bite of toast. She finished chewing and swallowed. "We've decided to call him Nathaniel."

Galatea gasped. "It's a boy?"

Gudrun beamed and nodded. "Matt saw it on the tapestry."

"We're lucky that things have been quiet and that we've had nice, large groups of recruits last year and this year," Janice said. "After Peter was born, Matthias told me that we'd possibly have to wait a while before we could have the next one, because Nehanda and Donovan had been pondering a restriction due to the strain our maternity leave caused the Order."

"That's not fair!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Nor is the fact that the others have to work their arses off because we want to pursue our personal happiness in the short term." Gudrun shrugged. "At least it doesn't harm our chances for promotion in the long run, like it does with women's chances in the Muggle world. Being a Ranger and having a normal domestic life is a difficult combination. We were all very lucky to have your sister-in-law as a nanny when we're not around to look after our kids."

It was true. Jasmine had contributed greatly to the Order by looking after Robert, Rachel, and more recently, Peter, when their mothers went back to work after six months of maternity leave. "Bless her," Ginny said. 

"Or you can put off children until you're retired, or almost retired, like me," Janice said.

"Does that mean you're calling it quits?" Gudrun asked.

"After twenty-two long years, I've decided to stop," Janice nodded. "October eleventh. I'll have about a month to prepare for this one's arrival," she said, stroking her belly. "When Peter and this baby are old enough, I'll help Jasmine take care of the children if both parents are unavailable."

"Did someone call?" Jasmine asked as she appeared from the living room. She was holding her thirteen-month-old daughter Rose, about whom everyone agreed that she could have been Ginny's daughter, such was the likeness. Rosie was positively all Weasley. Her big brown eyes lit up as she saw Ginny, and she smiled broadly, flashing an incomplete set of teeth. She whined and extended her little arms in Ginny's direction, and Jasmine indulged her by handing her to Ginny before she took her place at the table.

Rosie smelled of baby powder and milk, and the scent loosened an emotion deep within Ginny. She knew she didn't want to wait too long to have some of her own.

"We were just talking about how grateful we are that you're looking after our brood when neither us nor the fathers are around," Gudrun said. "I wish Matt and I didn't have to lean as much on you as we do, but _I _don't have a husband who can multiply himself and help out," she added, giving Galatea a quasi-jealous look.

The women laughed at that. Over the past couple of years, Wolfe had improved his powers tremendously, acquiring no less than thirty-two Animagus forms, multiplying himself nine times and sustaining a single copy for up to seventy-two hours. Consequently, when both he and Galatea had been scheduled to be at the Citadel, after Galatea's maternity leave for little Robert had passed, sometimes he made a double that would stay behind and look after Robert. Now that Galatea was on maternity leave again, it wasn't necessary.

From upstairs, a shriek that would have put many a banshee to shame echoed through the house, followed by two pairs of feet pounding the stairs. Charlie junior came darting into the kitchen, triumphantly clutching a brassiere, something Muggles and Muggle-born witches tended to wear instead of corsets.

"Come back here, you little sicko!" Mary screamed, hot on his tail.

The seven-year-old boy nimbly leapt over Hoover, Robert and Rachel, and exited through the kitchen door, towards freedom. Unwilling to risk trampling her little sister and Robert, probably unable to duplicate Charlie's athletic feat, and no doubt aware that she was still in her nightdress, Mary gave up pursuit and opted to let loose a string of curses that would have made Lilia proud. Charlie did a victory dance some twelve feet away, taunting Mary and challenging her to come out after him.

"Charles Weasley Junior!" Jasmine said sharply, causing her son to go pale under his freckles.

He reluctantly came back into the house. Mary snatched her brassiere back as soon as he was in range and grabbed his ear with her other hand.

"Mary, it's not your place to punish him," Gudrun warned, and her daughter released Charlie with much reluctance.

"Charlie, don't you have something to say to Mary?"

Charlie muttered something that was probably supposed to pass for an apology.

"I don't think she heard you."

"I'm sorry, Mary."

"That didn't sound very convincing. Maybe I ought to take you out of the gobstones club." 

"Mum, I said I was sorry!" Charlie protested.

"I know you didn't mean it. Now, try again."

"I'm really sorry," Charlie said, sounding more regretful this time.

"Much better. I think a two-week grounding ought to be enough. No broomsticks, carpets or gobstones. And you'll stay at home when we go swimming with the family."

"No!" Charlie looked very distressed now, tears threatening to spill forth out of his eyes. "Mum, please." He turned to Mary. "I'm really, really, sorry. I won't do it again, ever. I swear."

Mary's heart was as big as her fuse was short, and Charlie's pleas didn't fall on deaf ears. She looked at Jasmine uncertainly, and the woman's severe expression lessened.

"If Mary forgives you, you're allowed to go swimming with the family," Jasmine said.

Marry rolled her eyes. "Oh, why not? You're forgiven."

"Thank you!" Charlie threw his arms around Mary's middle and hugged her fiercely, reminding Ginny of how Dobby used to hug Harry. Mary tousled his already messy curls even further as she smiled down at him. "Okay, that's enough. I don't want your cooties." Then she pried his arms loose and headed to the living room, where she took the stairs to the second floor.

Jasmine frowned at her son. "Charlie, why did you take her bust-holder?"

Charlie blushed. "I told David Golan that Mary's boobies are bigger than his sister's but he didn't believe me because his sister is fifteen and Mary's eleven so I had to prove it," he rattled.

Galatea looked at him oddly. "Batya Golan?"

Gudrun shook her head. "That's Mary's friend. She's eleven too, but she's barely got any curves. I think he means the older sister, Sabra."

"Yeah, Sabra," Charlie confirmed.

"So he told you to nick one of Mary's bras so you could compare them?" Ginny asked.

Charlie nodded.

Ginny shook her head. "Boys."

"I've seen Batya and David's sister around," Gudrun said. "You can tell David that he can take my word for Mary having bigger—_boobies_—than his sister."

At eleven, Mary certainly didn't look it anymore. She'd always been very tall for her age, and she'd already begun developing curves around her ninth birthday. "I barely had any curves when I was her age."

Gudrun laughed. "I bet you were a foot shorter too."

At five feet and four inches, Mary was tall for her age, and save for her youthful face and expression, she could easily be mistaken for a much older girl. 

"The kids these days grow up much too early," Gudrun sighed. "I went to see a Healer to check if Mary had some sort of hormonal imbalance. She couldn't find anything, so she put it down to nutrition and heritage. Since she doesn't get it from my side of the family, I asked Matt about his. Turns out his Aunt Betty is six-foot-two and measures at least fifty inches around the bust. His Aunt Zelda isn't poorly endowed either."

Cliff looked sceptical. "_Fifty_ inches?"

"_At least_. Matt described her as looking as though she had a pair of Quaffles stuffed under her robes. Mary seems to take after Lynette a bit too, so I don't think she'll expand _that _much. Anyway, at first I just thought I was being paranoid, but when the school term ended and the teenagers came back home, I noticed a lot of boys of about fourteen to sixteen walking past the house several times. One of them must've seen her and spread the word about a babe on the block quickly. I bet they don't know she's only eleven."

"Knowing boys that age, I bet it won't _matter_," Janice warned. "I'd keep a close eye on her if I were you."

"If I were around all the time, I _would_. Mary doesn't realise that those boys are after only one thing. Maybe I ought to send her to Caer Sidi until school starts. Thank goodness she's going to a girls' school."

"Doesn't she know the facts of life?" Ginny asked.

"My mother took care of that years ago," Gudrun smiled and glanced over at little Rachel. "In a few years I'll have do it myself, though. They grow up too fast."

Galatea frowned. "I'm not sure about the Salem Witches' Institute, but going to Southern Cross wasn't fun at all. They wouldn't let us have any contact with boys whatsoever. A little lips-on experience with boys isn't necessarily a bad thing, you know. It would have made my life after school much easier."

"Salem isn't that bad. A few years ago, they started getting the boys and girls together on Halloween, Yule and Easter. They have dances and things like that."

"Isn't that why she wanted to go there in the first place?" Ginny asked, while she pried open her niece's clenched fist and freed the lock of hair Rosie had been tugging at.

"Yeah, that way she'll see Nicolai a little more often than just the Christmas and summer holidays. It's a good school, and I don't want to deprive my daughter of necessary experiences, so we signed her up there. I want to shield Mary from older boys who are much smoother and want much more than a kiss. She isn't ready for any of that, but from what I've seen so far, she tends to attract _their_ attention. Younger boys are intimidated by her size—oh, look, there's another one." Gudrun nodded to the window, where another teenaged wizard of about fifteen walked past, hoping to catch a glimpse of the inside of the house. He averted his gaze quickly when he saw the women staring back at him.

"Has Harry picked a best man yet?" Janice asked Ginny.

"I assume Ron will be the Guardian. But I'm not sure."

"Well, that's Harry's concern, not yours. I'm sure Hermione will consent to being the Maiden. Knowing Hermione, she has probably anticipated it," Gudrun said. "Right now, we've got to get you a dress, so we need someone who has rubbed shoulders with the best dressmakers and knows what would suit you."

Janice nodded. "We don't want the dressmaker to waste your time with eccentric designs."

Gudrun leaned back in her chair. "Where is Heidi right now?"

*

"I'm really going to hate this, aren't I, Ron?" Harry asked, as he sat down in a booth at The Barrel with Ron and Wolfe. "No, I don't have to read your mind for this. It's written all over your face."

Ron sighed. "Remember how I told you it was a bad idea to send Percy's invitation to the Ministry?"

Harry groaned. "What happened?"

"Word leaked," Wolfe said. "One of our people was in London two days ago and heard about it. Ironheart told me this morning."

Vesta Gaal appeared at their table and beamed at Harry. He'd rid her of a parasitic personality two years ago and she'd been eternally grateful, offering a drink on the house every time he was in The Barrel. But even her dazzling smile couldn't erase the sense of dread mounting inside him.

"Hey, Vesta. Fire Whiskey for me and Wolfe, and hot chocolate for Harry," Ron said.

"Fire Whiskey in the morning?" Harry asked. Whatever Ron was about to tell him would have to be really bad.

"Better make the whiskeys doubles, and give them to Harry," Wolfe said.

"Because of your status in the wizarding world, when people got wind of the wedding, lots of them felt snubbed for not being invited," Ron began.

"They felt they ought to be invited because—" Wolfe had sensed his question and would have begun to answer it, but he was at a loss for an explanation.

Ron took over from Wolfe. "You've saved the _world_, and as representatives from the governments, they chose to invite themselves. It would do wonders for many of their careers to be seen at your wedding. Treaties with Concordia allow them to get in at will, so the six month advance notice rule can't keep them out." 

"The Lord Mayor sympathises with your plight, but he couldn't turn these opportunists away," Wolfe said. " The timing is simply too convenient to seal some very lucrative contracts with said government representatives, and in the end he has to think about his re-election too."

"How many people are we talking about?" Harry asked. He'd resigned himself to the presence of the unwanted guests.

"It isn't all bad," Ron said quickly. "Here in Concordia the news was received with great enthusiasm. We've got lots of people volunteering services and goods for the wedding, free of charge, and—"

"How bad is it?" Harry repeated.

Wolfe grimaced. "On a scale of one to Korumu's stone, it's about—heck, kid, just elope."

"That bad?"

Vesta arrived at their table, bearing the drinks on a tray.

Harry gave her a rueful smile. "Keep the drinks coming, please."

"C'mon, Harry, it isn't that bad. I bet a game of Quidditch would take your mind off things," Ron said.

"Do we have a team?"

"No, but Wolfe can multiply himself and play the Chasers and Beaters."

Harry chuckled and looked at Wolfe. "You know, I always thought you got the better end of the deal with that power."

"Would you trade it for flying?" Wolfe asked.

"Not a chance." 

"Then what are you complaining about?"

Ron cleared his throat. "If the super wizards would momentarily cease boasting about their powers, we've got to do some wedding planning. Hermione sent me a message to remind me."

"Hermione, I should have known," Wolfe chuckled. "So, what did she say?"

"First off, she wants to know if she'll play a role in the ceremony."

Harry frowned. "Didn't Ginny ask her to be the Maiden?"

"Apparently not. She also wanted to know if you've picked the Guardian yet?"

Harry sighed. He didn't quite know how to tell Ron this. "You're my best mate, but I was thinking about asking Wolfe to be the Guardian. I mean, the things he did to get Ginny and me together—"

Ron laughed. "You don't have to look so guilty. I think it's a great idea. It completes the circle, you know. You were my Guardian, I was Wolfe's, and now Wolfe is yours."

Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thanks. I was thinking that you might want to give Ginny away instead?"

Ron blinked, clearly taken aback by the request. "I'd be honoured, but I had a different idea. If we can find someone else who'd give Ginny away, my brothers and I could cover the points of the compass."

Ron clearly wanted to give his brothers an equal share in the ceremony. "D'you think your mum would do it?" Harry asked.

"No, Mum thinks a man should give Ginny away. She's old-fashioned like that."

"What about Aberforth?" Wolfe asked. "He's got a special relationship with Ginny."

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Ginny about it," Harry said. "We'll have to talk about all of this. Maybe she wants some of her friends to have a part in the ceremony too, so I wouldn't hand out the points of the compass to your brothers just yet? I'm sure Hermione would object to being the only woman in the ceremony's inner circle."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Ron said. "Anyway, let's take this one day at the time. First we'll have to survive the madhouse my family will create when they get here on the 30th."

Harry smiled. The Weasleys would arrive two days before the wedding so they could go on a grand family outing to the lake the day before the wedding, Harry's birthday. Now that everyone owned a home in Concordia, Charlie, Ron and Ginny had decided to divide the family among themselves. Angelina, her kids, and Mrs Weasley would stay at Ron's, because he had the most room available. Percy, Hannah and their two daughters would be staying at Charlie's, while Bill and his family would stay at Harry and Ginny's. "I hope Fleur doesn't tie up the bathroom too much with her preening."

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A/N: That was the first chapter. Chapters in this fic are going to be shorter than those in EaL and MW, but the wait between chapters will still be ten days. I'm not being sadistic. I just want to be able to spoon-feed you some reading material while I work on future fics. It'll ease the long wait for the Sequel to Mind War a little bit.

On another note, there's a fic titled 'Rage', written by Gogirl. It's decently written and beta-ed, and so far the plot is very captivating. I my humble opinion it isn't getting as much attention as it could, so if you have some time to spare, R&R the story.

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Ginny 1946: I am so sorry! I completely forgot the promise to show you the ending of Mind War early. I'll make it up to you, though.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter 2

It was a mere four days until the wedding, and Ginny still didn't have a dress yet. Heidi hadn't been available until today, for she'd been drafted into dealing with the influx of dignitaries from many governments.

Ginny hadn't been pleased when Harry had told her how about a hundred people had invited themselves to the wedding. Fortunately, Heidi had managed to convince them that, while they'd be welcome at the reception, the ceremony was only open to family and close friends. At least she wouldn't have to deal with strangers gawking at her while she and Harry were being wed.

The only government icon she _had_ wanted to see at her wedding wouldn't be available. Mayumi wasn't ready to leave her baby. According to the latest gossip provided by Hermione, who was currently with Mayumi in Japan, Mayumi's insistence on having a hands-on role in the raising of her baby had caused great uproar among the upper echelons of the Japanese wizarding society. Ginny didn't understand what all the fuss was about. A normal family had raised Mayumi, so the snobs should have expected her to do something like this.

Ginny arrived at the townhouse. Since she didn't live there anymore, the door didn't open at the sight of her, so she rang the bell like everyone else. Heidi opened the door immediately and ushered her in.

"You're just in time," Heidi said, as they went into the parlour. Some of the furniture had been moved out, while other pieces had been transfigured into mirrors, and a changing screen. "The dressmakers will be here shortly." 

"I don't like this at all, Heidi," Ginny grumbled. "I don't care who these people think they are." 

"I know, But they did come highly recommended, and they compromised by coming over here. It saves us time. Besides, you do need a dress, don't you?"

Ginny sighed. Unfortunately, she _did_ need a dress. But two hours later, despair had begun to set in. Every one of the dresses that had been presented to her was a fashion nightmare.

The first dressmaker had been a short wizard, not much taller than Ginny. She'd disliked the beady-eyed man with shaking hands the moment she'd laid eyes on him. However, desperation for a dress had forced her to disregard her first impression of the man, despite his wild mass of white hair and a nervous habit of constantly wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. The cloth of his dress had been fine, though the maroon colour was not what she'd had in mind. The main problem with the dress, however, was that above the skirt it could have been described as a pair of very wide shoulder straps, nothing more. It had barely covered her breasts, and had to be adhered to her body with sticky patches to prevent said breasts from sliding into view every time she shifted her posture. 

The outrageous dress design and the wizard's demeanour went a long way to confirming Ginny's impression of him, and she suspected that the bulge in his trousers hadn't been part of their design.

Next had been a goblin tailor, who had her wear a larger version of a goblin wedding dress. It was a drab grey garment that looked like a nun's habit, and after explaining to him that it just wasn't going to be a goblin-style wedding, Heidi sent him on his way.

A pair of dwarves had followed the goblin, and their dress, while too extravagant due to the silver and gold colour, had been sort of nice. However, it had been made of finely spun metals instead of cloth, and it had weighed a lot.

The fourth candidate had been a woman that had strongly reminded Ginny of Narcissa Malfoy. Her dress had been more of a robe. However, Ginny had no intention of wearing black velvet robes to her wedding. Even worse, the veil—which had to be hooked to the inside of her hood— had been a white cloth mask with red trimming around the eyeholes. When Heidi explained to her that Ginny had no intention of looking like the groom's childhood archenemy, the insolent wench had had the nerve to ask why that would be a problem.

Finally there had been the incredibly cheerful woman, whose pink creation had made Ginny look like a flower. It had a bell-shaped skirt that had been charmed to hold its shape, normally there would have been a cage crinoline underneath to give the skirt its proper shape. The top had been low-cut, though it hadn't been too revealing, and the sleeves had been puffy. A pink ruff around her neck with three balloons on stalks protruding from it completed the outfit, and Ginny had half expected a cloud of insects to swarm her and try to extract nectar from her face. At that point, Ginny had seriously considered breaking into Lilia's stash of liquor. 

The witch had beamed at Ginny's appearance, claiming that the effervescent nature of the dress revealed the bride's happiness. It had taken Heidi five minutes to pierce her coos and squeals with the voice of reason, and she diplomatically told the witch that Ginny just wasn't _that _bubbly.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny. This is all my fault. I should have realised that dressmakers would see this as an opportunity to promote their most extreme designs," Heidi said, after it was mercifully over.

"Let's hope the caterers don't try the same thing," Ginny replied gloomily.

"Relax, I made sure the cuisine is fit for humans."

Ginny smiled. Despite the disaster with the dresses, Heidi had been a huge help with all the wedding preparations. How she had made all those arrangements while performing her other duties, Ginny had no idea. But she was grateful, and she realised she hadn't thanked Heidi. "Heidi, how would you like to be my Maiden?"

Heidi's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She looked as surprised as Ginny felt asking her. But Ginny knew it was a good idea. "Me?"

"No, I was talking to an invisible person who also happens to be named Heidi," Ginny said exasperatedly. "Yes, _you_!"

"B-but, what about Hermione?"

In light of Heidi's efforts, Ginny didn't think Hermione would mind. She was about to tell Heidi this, when the doorbell rang.

"Are we expecting any more dressmakers?"

"I'm not expecting anyone," Heidi said, rising from the couch. "Wait here, I'll go see who it is, and get rid of him. Then we'll go out to find you a dress."

Heidi strode out of the parlour, and moments later Ginny heard the creaking of the little hatch that would allow Heidi to see who was out there.

"Good afternoon, how may I help you?" Heidi's voice sounded dimly.

Ginny only heard vague murmurs as a reply.

Heidi's voice came back, suddenly much louder. "Mein Gott, _little Nicolai_? Look at you! Come in, come in." Heidi's voice got a strange undertone. Oh dear…_look at you_! Ginny, it's Nicolai!"

Nicolai was practically dragged into the room, his arm linked through Heidi's, who seemed captivated by the sight as she stared up at him in awe. Heidi was staring _up_ at Nicolai? Matt had often jokingly described Heidi as Ginny in the medium size, since she was three and a half inches taller than Ginny. Yet Nicolai, who had to be at least five-foot-nine, still stood about two inches taller than Heidi. Little Nicolai, who was turning twelve in a little over a month.

Ginny's stomach did wild flip-flops as the boy…young man…nervously ran his hand through his wavy, shiny, black hair. Every strand of hair that cleared his hand seemed to bounce back into place in slow motion, like in one of those shampoo commercials Ginny had seen on television while visiting Hermione's parents the previous summer, when Ron and Hermione had tied the knot. Her mind _had_ to playing tricks on her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, yet when she reopened her eyes he was still there and still looking extremely handsome. His jaw was square-ish and strong, like Commander Ironheart and Wolfe's. His lips were perfect, with a few droplets of sweat forming above the upper one, and his Slavic nose, while angling down sharply at the bridge, stopped short of becoming hooked. His black eyes seemed to have all the stars of the universe reflected in them. He was very slim, gangly even, but Ginny knew he'd fill out nicely over time.

And Heidi was all over him like a hussy! Ginny set her jaw. She wasn't going to give that luscious specimen of the male gender up without a—God, what was she thinking? An image of Harry flashed through her mind's eye, and Ginny immediately snapped out of her trance. She drew her wand and send a jet of cold water at Heidi, splashing the Austrian witch in the face and washing away the drool that had been leaking out of the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," Nicolai said miserably. "Grandpa's teaching me to control the pheromones, but I've still got some way to go." He extricated himself from Heidi's embrace and stepped a few yards away from her. "I'd best stay away from you. You're affected worse right now because you're ovulating."

That statement really surprised Ginny. "How can you tell?"

"Grandpa reckons we can smell it. I can't consciously identify the smell, as I do with some strong smelling and recognisable odours. The knowledge sneaks up on me on an unconscious level. Heidi looks more attractive to me right now because of it."

Heidi eyed Nicolai lustily. "Hmm, really? Tell me, _liebschen_, have you ever seen the inside of my bedroom?"

Nicolai turned beet red and began to stammer, unable to produce a coherent word.

"Heidi!" Ginny warned.

Heidi's expression quickly turned to normal, and she winked. "I was kidding. I have it under control, though it probably _is_ best to keep a bit of a distance between us." She turned to Nicolai. "So how did you get this tall?"

"Well, he did start his puberty very early," Ginny reminded Heidi. After his ninth birthday, he'd begun to grow very rapidly indeed. But when he'd left for school last September, he'd been a little over five feet tall. But nine inches in eleven months?

"I do have a theory about that," Nicolai said. "You see, when I started growing really fast after I turned nine, I discovered that it was just that, _fast_. Though I seemed to have skipped from the thirtieth to the ninetieth percentile for my age group on the growth curve, I calculated that this was because I had a two-year head start. By adding two years to the age variable, I saw that was I still in the thirtieth percentile for thirteen-year-olds, when I was eleven. So while my growth curve had grown steeper, it was relative.

"That changed when I moved out of grandfather's house, or more specifically, away from his regular presence. From September till February, I grew three inches. From February until now, I grew six."

Ginny gasped. "That's an inch a month!"

Nicolai nodded. "I'm now in the ninetieth percentile for fourteen-year-olds, and beyond the height at which the curve for the thirtieth percentile ends. And I think it's because I moved out of the house. As you know, I've always been on the short side for my age. But what you may not know is that I was also on the short side for my heritage. The Buccafuscas are pretty tall for Italians, and you know how tall the Ironhearts are. The Savins are just as tall as the Ironhearts, and one my paternal grandmother's brothers used to be a bear-wrestler. Now it looks like I'm catching up with my heritage."

"And you believe this is because you got separated from your grandfather?" Heidi asked, mopping the remnants of Ginny's water attack away with a conjured towel.

"Yes. It's a similar situation as with a subspecies of forest baboons, for example. Only the most dominant male develops completely, physically, growing to full stature and gaining colours on its snout and fur, while the others seem to get stuck in their juvenile states. Lab tests have shown that separating a few males from the group, along with some females, causes one of the males from that subgroup to discover his dominance and complete his development. I think it had to do something with my being exposed to Grandpa's pheromone traces. When I got out of that environment, I began to grow. Though I'm not a Mind Reader, I can sense that Grandpa is annoyed by my presence. So we just stay out of each other's way whenever we're not doing the pheromone control exercises."

"That's not very nice of him. You can't help it," Ginny said.

Nicolai shrugged. "It's a primal thing. It'll end when I'm older and he's just plain old. But I've digressed from the purpose of my visit. My cousin Regina finished school last year, and she's a seamstress. Word has it that you haven't got a dress yet, so I told her she ought to come here. But she's really very shy, and her self confidence has taken a hard blow yesterday, so I couldn't convince her to come over."

"Your charms didn't work on her?" Heidi teased.

Nicolai blushed. "Hey, she's my _first cousin_. Besides, she's immune because she's one-quarter incubus too."

"So you _did _try!" Heidi continued teasing.

Nicolai blushed even more deeply and opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny decided to save him. "Heidi, stop it." She turned to Nicolai again. "Why did your cousin lose her self confidence?"

"Grandma told me that Regina applied for an apprenticeship with a wizard who is supposed to be a great designer. But he turned her down."

"Why?"

"From what I overheard, I think it was because her designs were too conservative," Nicolai replied. "He actually gave my cousin a chance to design a new dress, but she thought her dress was fine, so she refused."

Ginny and Heidi exchanged glances.

"You wouldn't happen to know his name, would you?" Heidi asked.

"Samuel Strauss," Nicolai scowled. "Actually, I'm glad it didn't work out with my cousin. My mother went shopping for a gown last year, and we stopped by his workshop. He had _pervert_ written all over him."

"That's our man all right," Heidi chuckled. "Ginny, let's go. If he didn't like her designs, odds are that they're pretty good."

"There is one more thing, though," Nicolai added quickly. "My cousin doesn't have the gold to buy the different fabrics and materials she needs."

"That's okay. If we like the design, we'll provide the materials," Ginny said, feeling hopeful once more. Still, could this girl finish her dress in just three days? "Is she at your grandmother's?"

Nicolai nodded. "You might have to coax her out of the broom closet, though."

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"Nah, Grandpa's home right now. Besides, I promised Mary I'd drop by as soon as I arrived in Concordia. She doesn't know I'm here yet, and I thought I'd surprise her."

"Oh, she'll be surprised all right!" Heidi said, giving Nicolai one last once-over as she escorted him to the door. 

Once outside, Nicolai turned to Ginny. "Well, I hope it works out with Regina. If I don't run into you again, I suppose I'll see you at the wedding reception."

"Don't be ridiculous. If it works out with your cousin, you may get to give me away." Ginny laughed. "You have _no_ idea how desperate I am right now."

Nicolai gave her a bashful little smile that almost made Ginny swoon. "Just trying to help. Well, bye then!"

"Hey, don't a get a goodbye kiss?" Heidi asked coyly.

"Heidi!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Just kidding."

***

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Gogirl: Yep, I posted the sequel. I have six chapters done and betaed, and chapter 7 is also finished, though it has yet to be betaed. Like I said in the author's note of chapter 1, this will keep you busy until I've got a big part of the sequel written.

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Foxfur: Thanks for the effort. I found those notes I lost too, so it doesn't matter. It's going to be quite a ride before Harry and Ginny finally tie the knot.

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B Rad-G: I'll try to make a dramatis personae list.

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CatatonicReaction: This story might become your cup of tea yet.

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KEDme: Welcome aboard.

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bane: They'll build on EaL, MW, and Union.

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nycgal: Okay, you'll get your e-mail sometime this week.

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Tanaxanth: I might reduce the update gap to 7 days, but that would mean a longer gap between stories.

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mentosadidasgirl7: Good to have you with us.

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LadySiri: Voila, the next chapter.

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judi: Like it?


	3. Chapter III

Chapter 3

It was a good thing that Harry didn't have to worry about a tunic for the wedding. It left him free to concentrate on the final checklist with Ron, while the girls had a bridal shower. The main problem was that with everyone volunteering to contribute things at the last minute, they had lost sight of some matters entirely. "Photographers?"

"The Americans are bringing their own photographer, as are the Indians and the Persians," Ron began. "Pretty much every photographer in Concordia jumped at the chance to take pictures at the reception when they caught wind of the wedding. Matt picked out the best two. He'll be covering their pay. He also offered to pay for Ginny's dress, since the commander's granddaughter can't afford to give put in all those hours for free."

"Matt's done more than enough by filling in for Wolfe. I can't let him pay for everything, no matter how easily he can afford it."

Ron frowned and cleared his throat.

Harry grinned. "And thank you for sharing his burden."

"You're welcome. I just hope Wolfe will be back in time for the wedding. Those vampires sounded nasty."

"It was only a matter of time before they discovered firearms," Harry said. "With their senses and eye-hand co-ordination, they make good shots."

Those had been Wolfe's thoughts, originally. He'd anticipated that step in the development of vampire society years ago. That's why Ironheart had sent _him_ after that vampires' nest to begin with. Harry wished he could have gone along. He didn't fear for Wolfe's safety. He just wanted to pay those vampires back for gunning down seven hit wizards. Five of them had been married, two had been parents of small children, and one had been a grandfather.

"Don't worry about Wolfe. He'll be back in time for the bachelor party. All right, next point on the list. Are the centaurs still giving us permission to use their sacred clearing in the forest as our ceremonial site?"

"Under certain conditions."

"Which are?"

"They insist on being guides. They don't want the visiting humans to walk through the forest unsupervised. I discussed the finer details with them this morning, and we came up with a plan to keep any uninvited guests away by escorting the invited guests to the clearing at the same time. That way we can check if everyone who should be there has arrived—"

"And uninvited guests are asked to leave."

"Precisely."

"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded, and moved to the next point on his list. "Music?"

"For the ceremony we've got violins. Doc's brother Balclik is in the band. Heidi listened to them, and she says they're very good. For the reception we have Perse Angelou and Celestina Warbeck."

Harry let out a low whistle. He could tell that Ron wasn't joking. An agent who had often worked with Celestina Warbeck and many other famous musical entertainers of the wizarding world had discovered Perse about a year ago. Due to her looks and talent, Perse's star had risen quickly, and Harry reckoned it was only a matter of time before she transcended duets with Celestina and struck out on her own. "Let me guess, they agreed to perform free of charge."

"They were supposed to give a concert in Concordia on the 2nd of August, so they decided to hurry their tour along to make it in time to your reception."

"Ah, so they didn't do it just for me?"

"Commander Ironheart convinced Celestina," Ron said, flashing Harry a knowing grin. "He had an assignment as her bodyguard forty years ago. Aside from Professor McGonagall, I wonder how many of our other guests he's—"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let's not talk about that. And you'd better keep him away from your mum at the reception. Aria's visiting her relatives on their ancestral island, so she won't be there to keep him in line."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "D'you really think he'd try something?"

"I know him well enough to advise you to keep an eye on your mum whenever possible. Believe me, I know some things that give me a unique perspective on this. But that's between Wolfe, the commander, and me. What about flowers?"

"There are going to be loads of them. Every florist in the city is contributing something. Let's hope nobody's allergic."

"Catering?"

"The final number of guests is in, and they're all set. Oh, and the cake's going to be huge. They haven't baked it yet, but I've seen the drawing."

Harry glanced at his list. Things like seating arrangements for the guests would be taken care of by Heidi. "Rings?"

"Should be done this afternoon. I'm Portkeying to Canada to pick them up later."

Harry frowned. That was awfully far away from home. "Why Canada?"

"Because the jeweller who made your rings happens to be among the best in the world. I heard about him from Seamus. His name's Trevor Keogh. He's Seamus' second cousin once removed, or something like that. He married a witch from Montreal and set up shop there."

Harry scratched the back of his head. He'd heard the name before, though for the life of him he couldn't remember exactly where or when. "Sounds familiar."

"Binns told us about it in History of Magic, at least, that's what Hermione told me. A direct ancestor of his—or so his family claims—was an eagle Animagus who dropped the first Claddagh ring into a Muggle woman's lap."

Though he wasn't an expert on the subject, Harry knew one wasn't supposed to buy Claddagh rings for oneself, rather one ought to receive such a ring as a gift. "I can't buy Claddagh Rings."

"_You're_ not buying them. Everyone in the Order chipped in to buy them _for_ you. They're gifts."

"Bloody hell, this wedding won't cost me a Knut!"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all. But I feel like I ought to contribute something too."

Ron shrugged. "Don't be late for the wedding."

Harry chuckled. "Seriously, Ron."

"Listen mate, you've been through a lot of troubles in your life on our behalf. Consider this a way of being paid back. Why can't you enjoy it?"

"You're right. But I can't help feeling that I'm taking advantage of my fame."

"It's brought you misery plenty of times. I say you milk it for all it's worth while you've got the chance."

"As weird as it'll feel, I'll give it a try." Harry sighed. "Three more days, Ron. Three more days before you and I are in-laws."

Ron smiled. "A little over three, actually, since the wedding's in the afternoon, and it's almost noon right now."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, three days until the big day."

"Two and a half, actual—"

"Shut up!"

*

When Ginny escorted Gudrun home that day, supposedly because her friend had been feeling a bit under the weather, it had never crossed her mind that Heidi might have set up a bridal shower. In fact, Heidi had convinced the officers to change the time tables enough to give all the female Rangers Ginny was close to a chance to attend.

The women, except for Gudrun who couldn't prepare a decent dish even to save her life, had all brought snack-sized dishes typical to their country of origin. Among the favourites had been Lilia's shrimp dish, which was surprising, since she'd never struck Ginny as being the cooking type. However, Heidi, whose pastries had been a tad on the sweet side, confirmed that Lilia had made the dish herself.

Clara da Silva's pieces of spicy beef had also hit the spot remarkably well, even though Gudrun now seemed to be getting indigestion because of it. And the kosher dishes the Esklove sisters had conjured up had been very tasty as well.

After eating, the games started. First they played 'Wedding Bingo,' during which Jasmine excused herself to check on Robert and Rachel, who were playing in the recently built courtyard under the watchful eye of Gudrun's house-elf. Rosie and Peter Faust were sharing a playpen in the kitchen, while little Henry slept peacefully in a special crib that came with a one way Silencing Charm that would allow the mother to hear the baby normally, but would filter out the sort of noise that could keep an infant awake. 

'Wedding Bingo,' in which the guests had to guess which gift the other guests had given the bride-to-be, and write it on a piece of paper—the reason that Jasmine, a Mind Reader, had abstained from playing—had been absolutely hilarious. No one seemed to have guessed any presents correctly, leaving Ginny in the dark about the gifts that would be unwrapped later. The women had suspected Gudrun of having given Ginny things like highly illegal love potions that would keep Harry 'interested' for days, or some artefacts that sounded painful but were meant for foreplay.

"Really, my gift was supposed to be used in the bedroom, not a dungeon," Gudrun had said. 

Next they played bridal trivia, in which the women had to test their knowledge of Ginny. To motivate the right answers, Gudrun had created two life-sized posters of Matt, each one facing one of the teams of women. Every time a team answered a question correctly, Gudrun would touch a part of the poster with her wand, upon which part of Matt's clothing would vanish, until only a skimpy thong remained. They women groaned in disappointment as a smug Gudrun told them that was all they would see. Ginny wondered if Matt had ever told his wife how he'd flashed her and Heidi a couple of years ago.

'Draw it' had also been a crack-up. The ladies had to draw what they thought Ginny would look like in her wedding dress. The catch was that they had to do so by putting a piece of paper on a book and then to put the book on their heads, thus drawing blindly in a very awkward position. The craziest masterpieces were created, and Tarana Oliseh, whose creation still looked vaguely humanoid, won a jar full of sweets.

Another game, also having a jar filled with sweets as the prize, followed 'Draw it,' and the women simply had to guess how many sweets were in there. The one closest to the target would win the jar, which turned out to be Eilis Duff. She was an Irish witch whose time at Hogwarts would have overlapped with Ginny's, if she hadn't attended Ogygia instead of Hogwarts on account of being an Emerald Seer. Being in the same division and often doing very similar work, she'd befriended Ron first. Ginny had got to know her better when Clara brought her to the townhouse a few times to play that weird strategy game. Eilis had liked the townhouse so much that she'd moved into Ginny's old room when Ginny and Harry had moved in together.

'Wedding Gown' was a game in which a wedding gown had to be fashioned out of loo paper, _no magic allowed_. The models from the respective teams had ended up looking more like mummies than brides, to which Gudrun had commented, "That's all right. I was a mummy before I was a bride too."

Finally there were the word games, in which words associated with wedding were jumbled, and another game in which the guests had to make words from the letters of Ginny's name. Since mildly alcoholic beverages had been flowing for a few hours already, the giggly women didn't get many words beyond gin and weasel in the three-minute time frame. Gudrun and Janice Cliff, who had been quite sober due to their abstinence from alcohol, had been too busy laughing at their giggly friends to come up with any decent words themselves.

And now, all the girls were waiting in anticipation as Ginny prepared to unwrap their presents.

The Esklove sisters quickly thrust their present into Ginny's arms. They had been assigned to find items that could be used in the kitchen. They'd put an Engorgement Charm on a jar, making it look like a small barrel, and stuffed it with an assortment of presents. The first few items, like protective gloves, an apron, chocolate fudge, and whipped cream, seemed innocent enough. However, when Ginny pulled out underwear and a flask with the label 'Banana Sundae-Flavoured Body Butter,' she gave them an odd look. The women erupted in laughter.

"Edible underwear, Ginny," Gudrun explained.

Rachel Esklove giggled. "The apron and the gloves are edible too."

"Our assignment said we had to get things that could be used in the kitchen, but it didn't say that you couldn't use them anywhere else," Sarah added.

"My present is still being made, but I suppose I can tell you what it is," Gudrun said. "I saw that grandfather clock at your mother's house, and I thought it would be a good idea for you to have one of your own. It'll be delivered on your wedding day."

Ginny was touched. She'd always thought about getting such a clock when she started her own family. She got up from her seat, crossed the circle of women and hugged Gudrun fiercely. "That's very thoughtful, thank you!"

"You're welcome," Gudrun grunted. "Now let get go before you kill my baby!"

"I'd better give you my cliché gift now, before it's completely overshadowed by the creative ones," Janice Cliff-Faust said, and handed over a small box. Ginny opened it and discovered a small wooden model of Harry. He was wearing a miniature Ranger's uniform, and Ginny put him on the coffee table, where he began pacing along the edge of the table. 

"Oh, a Harry Potter action figure!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Charlie's been bothering me for one of these for months. I keep telling him that he gets to see the real one every day, but since all his friends at school have one, he wants one too."

"I've made a few modifications to it," Janice said, flashing Ginny a wicked grin. "If you tie a strand of Harry's hair around its head—"

Serafina Esposito gasped. "Janice, that's dark magic!"

"Oh, don't worry about it. You don't see any pins, do you? Besides, Harry's aura is much too powerful to be affected by these kinds of curses."

Ginny frowned. "So what is it for?"

"Well, I modified it so that it only works when you're in the bedroom together. If you rub it the right way, the real Harry can feel it too." The women in the circle erupted into a fit of giggles as they understood what the doll was capable of.

"Oh, why didn't I think of that?" Gudrun laughed.

"It wasn't my idea, originally," Janice admitted. "I overheard Patience Gedeon talking about voodoo, and it gave me the idea. So, who's next?"

"Me!" Lilia said eagerly. "I had to get something for the study, so I got you two books." She held out two individually wrapped presents that were clearly identifiable as books.

When Ginny tore away the wrapping, it screamed bloody murder, startling all the women.

"I got it from the joke shop," Lilia said, looking at Ginny uncertainly.

Ginny felt awkward. She felt a slight pang of regret as she considered that Fred and George wouldn't be there to see her get married. On the other hand, she could see it as a sign that Fred and George were participating from beyond the grave. She smiled and continued to unwrap the book. It was a book about massages, with moving pictures that illustrated the techniques in detail.

"Let me guess, it was Geo's idea," Danielle Esklove said, referring to George Ramos' by his nickname, like most Rangers of the Martial Division often did.

Lilia grinned. "We've got a copy too, and he knows it by heart."

Ginny had immediately begun to unwrap the second book, and she was now looking at the cover, along with the others. It depicted a drawing of a man and a woman in a strange contortion, and they seemed to be—

"Good God, Lilia, the Kama Sutra?" Eilis gasped.

"We've got a copy too, and he knows it by heart," Gudrun quipped, repeating Lilia's earlier statement and causing another bout of hilarity. "I bet we even invented a few manoeuvres of our own."

The next few presents were a bit tamer. Heidi had given Ginny a large and varied supply of fragrant bath salts and foams that would last her quite a while. Tarana Oliseh gave Ginny a deluxe dictation quill for the study. Serafina gave her a gorgeous china tea set. Cleverly anticipating frequent visits from Ron, Clara gave Ginny an elaborate strategy game to entertain him with. Eilis gave Ginny a set of silk bedding and sheets for special occasions, which had felt so slippery in her fingers that Ginny wondered whether she and Harry would slide off the bed if they were to make a sudden movement.

Jasmine stepped forward and handed Ginny a cubical box that measured about a foot in every dimension. "It would be more appropriate for a baby shower, but I thought it pays to think about the future."

Ginny unwrapped it and saw that it was a baby mobile she could hang over a crib. It could be suspended from either the ceiling or a special armature that clamped to the side of the crib. The large ball dangling on the string was hollow. When Ginny tapped the ball in the designated spot, ten tiny dragons flew out and began to circle the ball at various speeds and distances.

"It's so pretty. Thank you! Now all I have to do is buy a crib."

"Actually, I took care of that," Galatea said, gesturing to the remaining box next to the coffee table. "It's the same as Henry's."

"It's a great design. Where did you buy it?" Gudrun asked.

"In Red Four, two shops down from the joke shop."

Gudrun frowned. "Wasn't that an astronomy supplies store?"

Janice giggled. "You ought to get out more, Gudrun. _Galaxy Goods_ moved to another location months ago."

"What can I say? I don't particularly like shopping. Matt and Mary can shop for hours and hours, so if there's something worthwhile out there, they usually let me know."

Half an hour later, the women set about tidying up Gudrun's living room, before saying their goodbyes and heading to their respective homes, leaving Ginny, Heidi and Gudrun behind.

"Damn, where is that no-good husband of mine? He was supposed to be here by now."

"Probably having a drink with the mates," Ginny said, while she poured Gudrun a glass of apple juice, which the Icelandic witch downed in a few gulps.

"Thirsty?" Heidi smirked.

"The way this kid has me eating, I suspect he'll take after Matt's father."

Moments later, a deliriously happy-looking Mary strolled into the living room, and plopped down in an armchair. Her eyes were glassy, and she seemed oblivious to the presence of the three women.

"So, would you like to tell us about your day?" Gudrun asked.

The dreamy grin on Mary's face blossomed to even greater proportions. "He kissed me. Maria Savin…it sounds good, doesn't it?"

Gudrun rolled her eyes. "Oh dear, I was hoping I'd have a few more years to prepare my lecture. I told Matt that Mary would be an early bloomer," she muttered. "Mary, do you know where your dad is?"

Mary failed to come out of her trance. "Who?"

"Your _father_. Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, he's in jail," Mary said happily, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

***

**Psychochick **and **Casual Reader**: You two were right. :-) **Disclaimer**: I _did_ borrow this part of the plot from Michael J. Stackpole's _Union_. The reason I didn't disclaim this at the beginning of the fic was to allow the readers to have some fun discovering the borrowed elements. If no one had recognised it, I still would have disclaimed it at the end of the fic.

**Gogirl**: Angst free? You just wait! *evil cackle*

**Lioness-07863**: Secrecy. If Ginny had started looking for a dress months in advance, people might have begun to speculate about a wedding date.

**The Keymaker**: Thanks for leaving all those reviews. Much appreciated.

**CatatonicReaction**: Mary's just one of those textbook cases of early puberty in girls. In this day and age more and more young girls mature much too early.

**KEDme**: I got the inspiration from somewhere else, but thanks anyway.

**Lord Dreadnault**: I suppose I could update sooner. But that would leave a big hiatus in between fics.

**bane**: Nope. I'll leave that to everyone's individual imagination.

**Viva**: Unlike Ruskbyte's, my first chapters rarely draw many reviews. I don't really mind, though, since everyone came through nicely for this chapter.

**Kalen**: The average chapter in the fic is going to be shorter than those in EaL and MW.

**Foxfur**: Mary's going to be the cause for a lot of trouble in this fic.

**nycgal**: Did you get the e-mail?

**Ginny1946**: I'm sorry. I've chosen to keep the ten-day update gap. :-(

**phoenix catcher**: Strictly speaking, this isn't the third part of the series. It's more of an in-betweener.

**LadySiri**: I hope you recover soon.

**lill_one**: Thanks.

**mentosadidasgirl17**: I am planning one based on Wolfe. But they'll feature Rowling's characters in a very prominent role, of course.

**Anon**: I'm not that young. My prose is limited because English isn't my first language.

**Chloe Black**: I'll take all the time I need, but I'm writing this fic fairly quickly. You needn't worry about month's worth of waiting time.

**Wand*Light**: Regarding Nicolai's maturity level; he's a very special case.


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter 4

"Bloody hell, Ron. I'm not sure this is going to work. Matt hexed a minor."

"Who happens to be the Lord Mayor's grandson," Ron said gravely.

"Which only makes matters worse!" Harry groaned. "What makes you think your little speech won't blow up in your face?"

"I may not know _what_ people are thinking, but I do have a knack for learning _how _they think."

"I hope you're right," Harry muttered, before they pushed open the heavy wooden doors with the City Watch's emblem carved into them. The sounds of an agitated female voice met their ears. It came from an antechamber off the reception hall. 

At the front desk, Doc's brother Grimlock was writing in a large book, seemingly oblivious to the noise that came from the antechamber. Without even looking up, he pointed his long finger in the antechamber's direction.

"…one more thing. On your way back to your post, I'd like you to take the time to memorise the City Watch's mantra. Peterson is always right. I will listen to Peterson's recommendations. Peterson is God. And if this ever happens again, Peterson will personally rip my lungs out! Dismissed!"

A young, pale-looking wizard shoved past Ron and Harry as he hurried out of the office.

Ron suppressed a frustrated moan. Just their luck, the City Watch's she-devil was on duty.

Harry smirked and gestured for Ron to go in first. "After you."

Ron took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before he marched into the antechamber. Aside from the volatile brunette that was Deputy Chief Heather Peterson, there was a very young blonde constable in the corner of the room, who was nervously scribbling away in a book like the one at the reception desk. Peterson asked her to take a break, and the young witch excused herself and left the room, but not before goggling at Harry and Ron through her thick glasses for a second or so. 

"Good afternoon, Rangers. I assume you're here to see Mr Kelly?"

"We'll also be leaving with him," Ron said calmly.

"He hexed a fourteen-year-old for questionable reasons."

"If I had an eleven-year-old daughter and I found an older boy with his hand up her skirt, I would've done much worse than that," Ron said, though he knew that he was exaggerating. However, he had a hunch that Matt would have phrased things like that.

"The boy said he was only patting her knee."

Mary had used the word _leg_ instead of knee. Ron knew that the boy's hand must have been above the knee. "Mary's tall for her age. There's a lot of space between her knee and her upper thigh."

"We'd like to take up the matter with Chief Garibaldi," Harry interrupted. "Matt simply hexed the boy's fingers off. He's pureblood and he's already being educated in the ways of magic. I don't believe the allegation that he was severely traumatised like that by something that can be fixed in minute."

"I consulted the precedents. Had any other father hexed a boy caught pawing his daughter, he would've had to pay a fine," Ron continued. "Yet you locked Matt up, and we're getting the feeling that those extreme measures have been resorted to because the boy is the Lord Mayor's grandson."

Peterson bit her lip as she thought it over. "It's true that the punishment is usually much milder," she began slowly. "But it is still well within the proper boundaries. The chief can't simply let Mr Kelly go."

"So what do we have to do to get him out?"

"You'd have to appeal to the Concordian Combine to change the sentence. But I'm not sure if they'll grant it."

"We don't need to get Matt off the hook completely. We only need to reduce his punishment to the fine that's normally paid."

Peterson nodded. "That sounds reasonable to _me_. There's only one problem. You'll have to make an appointment to speak at a meeting of the Combine. It'll take a few days before you'll be heard."

"I'm pretty sure they'll make an exception for me!" Harry said grimly. Ron struggled to suppress a grin. It looked like Harry was taking his advice about using fame to his advantage. "I'll be right back."

With that, Harry rose from the floor and floated up through the roof.

Peterson's mouth fell open. 

Ron grinned. "He can render himself incorporeal. It _does_ take some getting used to. Anyway, I have a hunch as to what he's up to. If you'll escort me to Chief Garibaldi's office—I want to be there when the Lord Mayor calls."

Peterson nodded and led the way. Ron had actually been down that route before, when visiting Wolfe before he'd been shipped off to Azkaban. They walked past Grimlock's reception desk and entered the corridor behind it, passing a few open office doors on the way to the stairs. Ron glimpsed the young constable Peterson had dressed down, chatting up the blonde with glasses that reminded Ron of Professor Trelawney's. They took the stairs on the left and walked two flights up and made their way to the ornately carved door that led to the chief's office. 

Peterson knocked in a very distinctive pattern, and the door swung open on its own. Garibaldi was talking into a mirror screen on his desk. "Thin air, you say? Why is it always _thin_ air? Why not fat air? Chubby air? Mostly-fit-but-could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds air?"

"Chief Garibaldi, this is serious. It's the statue of the city's founder," an anxious voice replied.

"I'll send some people over. They'll be there in half an hour." Garibaldi tapped the mirror and turned to Ron. "I assume you're here for Kelly, Mr Weasley?"

"You know my name?" Ron asked.

"Anyone who has delved deeper into Harry Potter's background knows your name, Mr Weasley. I wouldn't be fit for this job if I were ignorant of your identity. Furthermore, I used to have a job very similar to yours when I was a Ranger."

Now Ron was even more confused. "There aren't any records of you ever having been part of the Order of Illumination."

"Not the records _you_ have access to, Mr Weasley. Right now you're thinking that some of the elder Rangers would have said something about me by now, don't you?"

Ron nodded, dumbfounded.

"The answer to that mystery is simple. They were ordered not to say anything about it. I've heard much about your skills. I must say I'm a bit disappointed that you haven't discovered my secret."

"If it isn't in the records, it's still classified," Ron said. "The fact that the elders have been ordered not to talk about it means that such information is strictly off limits."

"That never stopped me," Garibaldi said. Then he turned to Peterson. "Heather, wake Russell up from his beauty sleep and go down to the third tier. The statue of the city's illustrious founder had disappeared." He waited for Peterson to leave before turning to Ron again. "You are aware that Kelly hexed a fourteen-year-old boy?"

"A boy who was fondling his daughter."

"He says he had his hand on her knee."

"I know it seems innocent, but it's not," Ron replied. "You could liken it to a foot massage. You can pretend it doesn't mean anything, but deep down you know that it does."

Garibaldi's face darkened. "I see you've heard _that_ story. Were you using it to try and push my buttons?"

Ron sighed. That was exactly what he'd been trying to do, and there was no point in denying it. But it wasn't too late to turn tack. "Mr Garibaldi, did _you _ever put your hand on a girl's knee with no intent to go any further? That's the point I'm trying to make."

Garibaldi placed his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingers together. He seemed to be contemplating that, and Ron pressed the issue.

"Maria Kelly is _eleven_. Granted, physically she looks much older, but not to her father. You have a daughter, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And she'll always be your little girl to you, won't she?"

Garibaldi smiled. "So you _have_ done a bit of homework. Yes, I'll always see my daughter as my little girl, and I probably would have reacted more severely than Kelly has. I personally believe that a fine should suffice as a sanction. Unfortunately, this isn't entirely in my hands."

"Harry's taking care of it on the Combine's end of things." As Ron said that, Garibaldi's screen began to flash. "That could be the Lord Mayor now."

Garibaldi touched the mirror screen in front of him. "Jeffrey, I've been expecting your call."

"I'm not surprised," the voice on the other end replied. Since the Lord Mayor's name was Jeffrey Sinclair, Ron assumed that it was him. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, Michael. You have a recommendation on Kelly's situation?"

"You might not like what I have to say."

"Michael, I picked you because you are right for the job. You're not politicking, you're not subtle, and sometimes you're a pain in the arse. And I wouldn't have it any other way. So what's your verdict?"

"While Mr Kelly might have overreacted, it isn't the first time this has happened. Eric should have known better than to try and feel up an eleven-year-old."

"_Eleven?!_ Nearly twelve, I hope?"

"I believe she turned eleven in May," Garibaldi said. "I take it Eric didn't tell you?"

"He didn't," Sinclair muttered flatly. "That boy's going to get a talking-to that'll blister his ears."

"Well, it's possible that he didn't know," Garibaldi began. "Although, when I was a boy, I always had the common sense to gather information before actually stepping up to a girl. Before eighteen, and on the wrong side of forty, women tend to be unreliable when it comes to revealing their age—unless they age very gracefully, in which case they tend to rub it in the faces of other women."

The Lord Mayor laughed. "Which reminds me, next week my mother's celebrating her sixtieth birthday for the fortieth time."

"My wife already took care of a gift. As for Kelly, I'd cut him loose after paying the standard fine."

"I'll arrange a mirror conference to approve your recommendation and dissolve the proposed sentence. My secretary will call you when it's official, but you can let Mr Kelly out of his cell now."

"You don't foresee any problems?"

"Not with the Combine, though my daughter-in-law might give me a hard time later."

"All right. See you later, Jeffrey." Garibaldi tapped the mirror a few times, and after a few moments a new voice spoke.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Grimlock, Mr Weasley will be coming over with the paperwork for Mr Kelly's release. Please have someone ready to escort him to Mr Kelly's cell."

"That's not standard procedure, sir."

"No, but I imagine Mr Kelly might be very upset, and seeing a familiar face might prevent him from harming the guard who opens the door to his cell. Lest we forget, he's trained for that sort of thing."

"I see," Grimlock replied. "Very well, I'll be expecting Mr Weasley."

Garibaldi drew a form in his desk and partially filled it out before signing it and placing a variety of official stamps on it. He rose and looked it over one last time before handing it to Ron. "That ought to do it. I assume you can find your way back to the reception hall."

"Yes, sir."

Garibaldi extended his hand. "It's been a pleasure."

Ron took his hand and shook it. "Likewise."

*

After Harry descended through the roof of the City Watch's headquarters, he saw Ron and Lilia talking to Grimlock and dwarf constable at the reception desk.

They didn't notice him until he was almost on top of them.

"Damn you, Potter," Lilia muttered angrily. "Stop using your ghost routine and walk in through the front door, like everyone else."

Harry smiled. "But that wouldn't give you anything to talk about. What are you doing here?"

"Gudrun got impatient and sent me to fetch her significant other."

"It's barely been twenty minutes."

"Pregnancy is warping Gudrun's perception of time. So, can we go get him now?"

"Follow the dwarf," Grimlock said, and buried his long nose in his book again.

This time they didn't go as deep as they'd gone when visiting Wolfe. Matt was being kept in a less secure part of the castle.

"I'm glad you're getting him out of here," the dwarf said. "He's been driving us insane with his singing."

"I didn't know Matt could sing," Ron said.

"He can't," the dwarf grunted, pushing open the door that led to the cellblock. They immediately heard Matt's bellowing a sorrowful song.

__

"Well I hear that train a comin'

It's rollin' around the bend

I ain't seen the sunshine

Since I don't know when

Well I'm stuck in Folsom Prison

And time keeps draggin' on

That train keeps rollin'

On down to San Antone."

"Shut your trap!" a fellow inmate a bit further down the hall screamed, but Matt continued to sing.

__

"When I was just a baby

My mama told me, 'Son,

Always be a good boy

Don't ever play with guns.'

But I shot a man in Reno

Just to watch him die

When I hear that lonesome whistle

I hang my head and—Matt stopped as Harry and the others stepped into view. "Oh, hey guys. What took you so long?"

"Mary forgot to tell anyone that you were in the slammer," Lilia said.

"She forgot?" Matt asked, while the dwarf worked on the lock. "How did that happen?"

"Nicolai came along right after the constables took you away—"

"And she forgot all about me." Matt rolled his eyes. "She's just like her mother. Anyway, it's about time you got here." He stepped aside as the cell door swung open. "Hey, d'you want to meet my bitches?"

A pair of wizards who would have been considered tough-looking by people other than Harry, cowered even further into a corner of the cell. Both of them had a black eye, and Harry suspected that Matt had been forced to put them in their place somewhere within the past few hours.

Lilia smirked. "Your reign is over, tough guy. Your arse is Gudrun's again."

Matt frowned. "It wasn't my fault. If that brat had kept his hands to himself, nothing would've happened."

Harry smiled, wondering how Matt would react if he found out about Mary's first kiss. Though Nicolai would never hurt Mary, Harry knew that from the point of view of some fathers, no man would be good enough for their daughter. His smile faded into a frown as he wondered how Mr Weasley would've reacted to his only daughter getting married.

"Whatever. The mistress of your house told me to tell you to get your arse home on the double."

Matt grinned roguishly. "She just misses me and wants me in her arms as soon as possible. She'd go nuts without me."

"Seems to me like _you're_ driving her nuts."

"No, that would be the work of the eldest fruit of my loins," Matt said, falling in line behind Lilia and the dwarf as they began walking to the reception hall.

"Where'd you learn that Johnny Cash song?"

"Gudrun's mum is a fan."

They continued on in silence until they reached the reception hall. 

"Ron," Lilia began. "Sarah relayed a message from Hermione. She told me to ask you if you've actually sampled the wedding cakes."

"Why would I have to do that?" Ron frowned.

"What use do you have for a cake that's hard as a rock?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione needs to learn to trust me more. That did occur to me. If anyone else had been getting married, she'd have been right. But this is _Harry Potter's_ wedding, and the cream of the wizarding world, as well as the scum who fancy themselves the cream, will attend. If the bakery messes up _this_ cake, their reputation will be ruined. They won't mess it up."

"I suppose I didn't look at it that way," Lilia said. "But what if something goes wrong during the baking of the cake, and it isn't done in time?"

"I've arranged for another bakery to bake a groom's cake to supplement the bride's cake. If one of the cakes doesn't turn up, the other will still feed all the guests."

"So what will happen if we do get both cakes?" Harry asked. It seemed like an awful waste of cake.

Ron laughed. "Don't worry. Well put the remaining cake to good use. I'm sure the Rangers who won't be at the reception would love a couple of slices. Mum will want to take a chunk home with her, too." He turned to Lilia again. "Did Hermione want to know anything else?"

"No, I think that was it. I'm headed over to the Citadel. I'll let her know everything's taken care of."

"I'm headed home to soothe my wife," Matt said, before he hurried after Lilia, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

"I'm going to pick up the rings now," Ron told Harry. "Want to come along?"

Harry thought it over as he glanced on his watch. He was supposed to be teach a few new recruits the basics of close combat, and the lesson was scheduled to take place in less than an hour. Even if Ron's Portkey took them directly to the shop, it would be close. "I'll have to pass. I need to prepare a lesson."

"I thought Ironheart gave you time off before the wedding."

"He did, but I'm—"

"Filling in for Wolfe," Ron finished. "I forgot."

"That's all right. As long as you don't forget to double-check the ring sizes. I want to be able to slip the ring onto Ginny's finger."

Ron sniggered. "Yeah, Mum will think it's a bad omen if the ring won't slip onto Ginny's finger."

Harry smiled inwardly. So _she_ was who Ginny got that particular superstition from.

*

When Ron walked into the jeweller's shop in Montreal, he was surprised how spartan. the decor was. The tiled floor was covered by a bunch of rugs. The windows, which were reflective on the outside, let in only a little light. Several simple copper sconces lined the walls, and their candles supplemented the light that shone in from the outside. Someone behind the counter was reading a magical newspaper, seemingly oblivious to Ron's entrance.

The paper was printed in English, and the front-page headline caught Ron's attention. _Hit Wizards catch up to pyromaniac witch. Ashwinder Annie finally got burned._ A particularly ugly and mad-looking one-eyed crone scowled at Ron from the page.

"Excuse me," Ron said cautiously.

The paper tipped a bit downwards, allowing the reader to look over its edge. "Yes?" The voice's accent sounded a bit odd, though it was heard to tell from that single word.

"I'm here for Trevor Keogh."

The paper came down, revealing the man's face and neatly curled moustache. He folded the newspaper on the countertop and lifted a hinged portion of the counter out of the way. "Follow me, please."

He took Ron through a door and to a room at the back. Royal blue carpeting covered the floor, and the whole room seemed to be decorated to match it. There were several tall showcases around the room, filled from top to bottom with masterwork bracelets, necklaces, rings earrings and an assortment of other jewellery.

"Have a seat, please," the man said, gesturing towards a round table surrounded by three armchairs. "Monsieur Keogh will be with you shortly." That said, the man went out through the door they came in.

Ron was about to get up from his seat and take a closer look at the jewellery, when a bespectacled, brown-haired man came in through a door. He had a rather distinctive spot in the middle of his forehead, right between his eyebrows.

"Good morning. I'm Trevor. Ye must be Ron Weasley. How's the form? Ye take after yer aul fella."

Ron rose from his seat and shook his hand. "You knew my dad?"

"Met 'im a couple o' times through me aul wan, but I didn't know 'im. I went to school with yer brothers, Bill and Charlie, though. I knew _them_."

"You were in Gryffindor?"

"Two years ahead of Bill," Trevor nodded. "'Scuse me for being late. I wanted ter wait for ye meself, but the struggle and strife's up the flue and she's about to calf. We thought it was time, but it was a false alarm. Still had ter pay the bloody midwife's fee."

That last sentence clued Ron in to all the gibberish Trevor had been mouthing. His wife was pregnant, and the baby would be due any time now. "You're having a baby? Congratulations."

Trevor smiled. "Thanks. Me aul wan's been botherin' me about babies fer years. Never mind that me younger sisters have three each. Hopefully she'll shut 'er gob now. Right then—" He gestured to one of the showcases and motioned for Ron to follow him. He undid the lock and opened the glass door, taking out an opened box with two rings lying on a cushion.

The rings' design was based on the Irish claddagh ring. They consisted of a single band of yellow gold with slender outer edges of red gold. The claddagh motif was worked in white and red gold, with white gold for the hands and crown, and red gold for the heart. The knotwork that wound from either side of the claddagh motif to the back of the ring was also wrought in white gold. White—for the purity of love—red and gold—Gryffindor colours, and all of it a subtle touch that Ron felt was entirely appropriate. Now he understood why Seamus had recommended this wizard.

"Brilliant job," he said. "Can we measure the ring sizes just to be sure?"

"I'm sure I made no mistakes, but if it'll make ye feel better…"

Trevor took a special gadget out of a drawer and the table and confirmed the sizes on the spot.

"Thanks. Did you receive the down payment?"

Trevor nodded. "Goblins added it a couple of days after you placed the order."

Ron's eyes fell on a timepiece at the very top of a display case. He walked over to it to take a closer look. It had many little planets orbiting on its face. He knew that Aberforth owned a similar watch. "Do you also do timepieces?"

Trevor shook his head. "That would be my father-in-law's work. I _did_ do the jewelled casing, but the insides are _his_ work."

"Your father-in-law?"

"The gobshite who brought you here. Did he treat you as if you barely existed and was wasting his time?"

Ron smiled. "I didn't feel offended."

Trevor sighed. "Maybe not you, but we've lost a great deal of business because of his attitude. Anyway, that particular watch is reserved for someone else. I reckon we could make a new one. If we use the same materials, it'll cost about four hundred Galleons. Why?"

"I thought it would make a good retirement present for my colleagues. I'll talk to my commanding officers about it."

"That would be quare! We're already doing it fer some departments of the United States and Canadian governments. That watch happens to be for the head of the Magical Law Enforcement's department."

"If the idea takes root, you'll hear from me," Ron said. "I've got to go now. I've got a bunch of relatives coming over tomorrow, and my mum will give me a hard time if I don't take a duster through first."

***

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bane: I'll be completely honest and say that it won't quite escalate to _action_ in the sense of fighting scenes…except for one instance, but I won't give away how or when. But it won't remain as "happy" as it is now.

****

Foxfur: Yep, plenty of things can still go wrong with the dress. As for your answers to OHGinnyfan and nycgal; they were partially right. Charlie, however, is 7, not 9. When Ginny found him in EaL (June 21st) he claimed to be nearly 5. (while in fact it was closer to 4½ as, but you know how kids are always looking ahead.) Now he is 7, (I mentioned this in Chapter 1) though closer to 8. Don't worry, you'll have a frame of reference when I tell you how old Harry is and your headache will be over. :-)

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Genie FF03: This is a H/G wedding fic. _What do you think_? ;-) Of course there will be H/G scenes.

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Anon: Yup, a third novel-length fic is planned.

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Gogirl: You haven't seen evil yet.

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The Keymaker: This isn't really a cliffhanger.

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REALbluelightsaber: Another chapter for you. (And the others.) Thank for the review. Don't be afraid to offer critique.

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Lioness-07863: I'm glad I improved your day.

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Ginny1946: Don't worry, regular updates are strict policy.

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OHGinnyfan: No, I didn't give this fic a fixed timeframe yet. You'll be able to place it when I tell you how old Harry turns on his birthday.

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Nycgal: Yes, his last name is Savin. And I don't know if it was you or someone else who asked me why Nicolai went off to school and Mary didn't, while they were in the same class in elementary school. The reason is that Nicolai was a borderline case regarding the cut-off date, and they allowed him to go while he was still 10, due to his extraordinary intelligence.

****

Chloe Black: No, I'm not implying that Ginny's pregnant. The ladies were just thinking ahead.

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Casual Reader: This chapter should have answered your question.

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Luxferre: A new name. Welcome.

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LadySiri: I already revealed how old I am somewhere in the answers to the reviews in MW, but I don't expect you to read everything again to find out. Instead, I'll give you a hint: I was born in the same year as Harry, if the Nearly Headless Nick theory is used to fix the Harry Potter timeframe. Figure it out. :-)

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Kalen: Yep, it was Nicolai. And this story is ten chapters long.

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denaumo: Why, thank you.

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The Bronze Snidget: I assume this chapter answered your questions.

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Keira Aislin: I have a knack for languages, I suppose. And my betas also occasionally polish the prose when it gets really choppy.

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jynzx: Did you _have _to come up with such a complicated name? ;-)

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mentosasidasgirl17: I used my first language in EaL. If you're so nosy, look it up.


	5. Chapter V

Chapter 5

Rain droplets splashed against the forward viewscreen of the _Boreas_as it cruised over Concordia. Hermione briefly wondered how the witch on her broomstick, a mere twenty feet below them, would have reacted if she'd actually been able to see the ship.

"Lovely weather," Gavin Carey muttered. "I hope it'll clear up on the big day."

"It will," Hermione said. She kept her answers short, not wanting to be distracted in the final approach. Although she had worked hard to learn to fly the Cruisers, she was nowhere near Gudrun's level of skill. Gudrun could fly the Cruiser blindfolded.

"Citadel Control, this is the _Boreas_ on final approach, requesting permission to land," Doc said from the second pilot's seat.

"_Boreas_, this is Citadel Control. Maintain present velocity and stand by," an unfamiliar voice replied

"Understood."

"This is Citadel Control, requesting the opening of the gates," the voice continued. "We have the _Boreas_on approach. Let's open her up." Fifteen seconds passed before the voice came back. "_Boreas_, you're all clear. Proceed to the epsilon landing pad."

"Roger that, Control."

"Door's open, bed's made, welcome home."

"No place like it," Doc replied.

Hermione carefully guided the ship over to her landing pad and set her down. Then she began to disengage the many enchantments that allowed the ship to function. Doc casually observed her, and nodded his approval when she was done.

"A dozen more hours and you can double as a pilot."

Hermione shrugged. "We'll be short-handed for a few more years. Being versatile makes things easier for the commanders. I wish I hadn't missed Ginny's bridal shower, though," she continued, as she rose from her seat and headed to the levitation platform with Doc and Gavin. It wasn't like crowding onto a platform with Max and Ron. There was plenty of space left, and she didn't have to tuck her arms to her sides. "If only I'd known about it far enough in advance—but it was a last minute plan. I'm happy that Heidi managed to organise something for Ginny on such short notice."

They stepped off the levitation surface after it touched down. The view of Harry and Ginny's gift from the Japanese wizarding empire dominated the centre of the _Boreas'_ luxurious lower deck. Two mannequins, side by side, dressed in clothing fit for a courtly visit. The silk was of a special kind, having come from smaller and more docile subspecies of Acromantula, which had been created through years of selective breeding. Hermione wondered if that was where Neville had got the inspiration to try the same with his killer grapevine plant.

A flick of the wand prompted the mannequins to march down the loading ramp after Gavin. Hermione turned to a storage cabinet behind one of the plush sofas to retrieve her bag, and found Doc already presenting it to her.

"Why, thank you. You're a gentleman."

"Just remember that any other goblin would want something from you if he behaves like that."

Hermione laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Shhh!" Doc placed one of his long index fingers in front of his lips, and used the other to point at Captain Sanzotti. "The poor dear hardly had time to sleep during negotiations," he whispered.

Stifling any further laughter, Hermione and Doc tiptoed out of the Cruiser and encountered Ironheart giving Rachel Esklove and Ginny instructions. "I want this Cruiser recharged as fast as humanly possible."

"Yes, sir!" Ginny and Rachel chorused.

Hermione rushed over to Ginny and engulfed her in a quick hug before she pulled back. "Ginny, aren't you supposed to have the week off? What about preparations for the wedding?"

"Everything's been taken care of. The rings are here, the specifics of the reception have been arranged—"

"What about your dress?" 

"I get to try on the finished dress today. If anything's wrong with it, I'll still have tomorrow and the morning before the wedding to make adjustments. The others could really use my help here right now."

"You know, I suppose there's an advantage to being fitted at the last minute," Rachel said.

"What would that be?" Hermione said, eyeing her doubtfully.

"If the dress is made weeks in advance, you have to watch your weight! I know it's easy enough to expand the dress a little, but the implicit humiliation…" she trailed off, melodramatically holding the back of her hand against her forehead.

Ginny giggled, and Hermione managed a chuckle too. 

Ironheart, who had been looking on so far, cleared his throat and gave Hermione a questioning look. "Excuse me, but did Gustava return with you?"

"The long hours have taken their toll on her. She's napping on the couch," Hermione replied. "I didn't have the heart to wake her."

"Then I'd better wake her. Her first grandchild was born a few hours ago," Ironheart said, before he strode up the loading ramp, looking very pleased about something.

"I didn't know Captain Sanzotti had any children," Rachel said.

"Oh no, she has a son—Heidi told me," Ginny said. Her face lit up as a thought dawned on her. "Oh, no wonder Commander Ironheart looks so happy. Captain Sanzotti's son is married to Yanamari, remember? It's _his_ grandchild too."

"That explains it."

"Ginny, do you know where Harry is?" Hermione asked

"He's working out in the Training Hall."

"Thanks."

"I hope he doesn't demolish any more golems," Rachel grumbled. "We have better things to do down here than fix things he's wrecked."

"Will you be there when I try on the dress?" Ginny called after Hermione. "We're meeting at the town house."

Hermione pondered that question. Her discussion with Harry wouldn't take that long. "I'll be at home preparing for the Weasley invasion. Give me a call when it's time."

*

He could fly out of the golems' reach, but that would defeat the purpose of the exercise. Instead he stood his ground and allowed the blue golems to charge him. To Harry, the charge felt more like a timid tortoise trying to approach him. He knew he could smash every one of them a dozen times over in the time it would take them to reach him. But the kids needed to see the action clearly in order to learn something. He immediately smiled inwardly at his thought. The eldest of those 'kids' was a few months older than he was. No wonder Wolfe kept calling Harry 'kid' until this very day. He'd been in the Order for years, before Harry joined.

The recruits gasped as Harry casually spun out of the path of a golem's punch, grabbing its wrist and pulling, twirling around his centre of gravity as he spun, and throwing the golem onto another one that had been coming at him. He continued his turn to face the third golem, and repeated the process. The recruits applauded when the third golem crashed into the other two, which had been about to charge again.

"End exercise," Harry commanded, preventing the golems from charging again. Then he turned to face the students. "Strength is important, but using your opponent's strength against him makes things much easier. Practice the techniques you've learnt last week on each other. Then you can each pick a white golem to train with." 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione standing behind the glass in the observation room. Her pointed look told him that she wanted to talk to him about something. 

"Danielle, Rolf, make sure everything is done properly. I'll be right back."

He took to the air and turned himself intangible in order to float through the glass.

"Do you have any idea how creepy it is when you do that?" Hermione asked, after he landed in front of her.

"Hello to you too, Hermione. How was Japan?"

"I think they try to kill people with formalities," Hermione sighed. "Gavin told me that Mayumi's recent reforms made it less so, but I hardly noticed. Reading about their tea ceremony really isn't the same as sitting through one. The master of ceremonies made Binns look like a very entertaining fellow, and this man was alive." She pursed her lips pensively. "Or maybe being a Ranger and living with Ron lowered my tolerance for boredom."

"That's a possibility," Harry laughed. "So, are you wondering about the wedding preparations? Worried that Ron and I made a mess of things?"

"It isn't polite to read my mind like that."

"I wasn't. I just _know_ you."

Hermione blushed at the retort. "I'm worried about the cake. Lilia told me that Ron had taken care of it, but a groom's cake is quite small."

"Not _this_ groom's cake. It's five-by-five feet, divided equally into four different types of chocolate cake," Harry explained. "I hope no-one's allergic to chocolate. Was that it?"

"One more question. Who will give Ginny away?"

"If Wolfe doesn't get back from his mission in time, Ron will be the Guardian. But if he does, as we expect he will, Ron will be the Summoner. So he'll be giving Ginny away. You've heard that Heidi's going to be the Maiden, right?" Harry asked, hoping that Hermione wouldn't be offended.

"Yes, they called me and asked me if I was okay with it. Considering that Heidi's been fulfilling many of the Maiden's duties already, I think it's an excellent idea. Of course, I still expect a role in the ceremony."

"Ron thought you would. You get to be Keeper of the East Watchtower. We had a bit of trouble assigning the roles of Keepers. Ideally the Keepers should be people who have something in common with the bride, and with each other. We thought about asking others from the Order to do it, but that would make everyone inside the circle a Ranger—except the priest, of course. Instead we've decided to give Ginny's sisters-in-law the roles. Since Jasmine already attended the bridal shower, she chose to forfeit her position in favour of those who hadn't."

"This was Ron's idea too?"

"Nicolai's, actually."

A devilish smile appeared on Hermione's face as Harry mentioned Nicolai. "Tell me, are the stories about him true?"

"That he's grown about a foot since you last saw him, and that he can make women drool at the sight of him? Yep."

"Unbelievable. I have to see that for myself."

Harry fought hard to keep a straight face. Ginny had told pretty much everybody how Heidi had behaved in Nicolai's presence. Ron had vowed that if Hermione reacted like Heidi had, he'd rub it in so hard that Hermione would never give him any grief about his reaction to Veela women again. "You'll see him tomorrow. God help womankind, but Charlie Jr invited him and Mary on the family outing."

"Speaking of which, tell the boys to try and contain themselves at your stag party tonight. If all her sons turn out to be too hung-over to attend the family outing, Molly will never let you hear the end of it," Hermione warned.

Harry shrugged. "I can only speak for myself, but I'm sure that the Weasley brothers are already aware of this. They'll behave themselves."

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Well, I'd better go home and make the basement fit for Molly's habitation. Angelina and the younger twins get one guestroom. Arthur, the girls, and Fred, get the other."

Harry chuckled. Ron had started to clear it out the day before, but after a few hours he'd ended up calling Harry and telling him that magically adding another few floors would be less of a bother. However, Concordian law demanded that buildings had to be structurally sound by standards akin to Muggle ones. Magic could not be used to _sustain_ buildings, although it could be used to enhance their strength. "What about the study in the attic?"

Hermione shook her head resolutely. "Out of the question. First of all, it would take me ages to put everything back when the visitors are gone again. Secondly, we'd always intended to turn the basement into a semi-independent living space. In fact, there's a shower and bathtub combination behind the mountain of rubble. And lastly, it'll be easier for Molly to climb down one flight of stairs than to ascend two."

"Would you like me to help? My ghost trick can come in pretty handy."

"That would be wonderful. You could keep Ron company while I go to the town house to see the wedding dress."

"Maybe Ron and I ought to stop by. The way Heidi's been going on about the dress really made me curious."

Hermione leaned forward and playfully jabbed Harry in the chest with two fingers. "You'll have to stay away. It's bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding." Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the observation room.

"Since when do _you_ believe in such superstitions?" Harry called after her.

"Since it began serving my purposes!" Hermione's voice came back.

Smiling to himself, Harry floated through the wall and returned to his class.

*

"What's keeping Regina?" Heidi wondered out loud, pacing back and forth, her mood becoming fouler and fouler every second.

The young seamstress was two hours late. In less than a half-hour, the Weasleys would arrive in Concordia. There wasn't much time left.

"Maybe something has happened," Hermione said, concern etched across her face. Her shop's in the bad neighbourhood. She could have been—" The doorbell rang, interrupting Hermione's sentence.

Heidi aborted her pacing pattern and sprinted out of the parlour, towards the door. Ginny heard the telltale creak as it swung open. "Max? You're back."

Since becoming Galatea's stepsister and spending nearly all her free time with her godson Henry, Heidi had joined the select group of women who called Wolfe by his first name. On his part, Wolfe had gradually learned to accept her presence in his home. His sons were very fond of 'Aunt Heidi', so he never really had much choice.

Wolfe strode into the parlour, with Heidi close behind him. "Yeah, I'm back. I've got some good news and some bad news," he said, stepping into the parlour.

"Is Regina all right?" Ginny asked.

"She will be, very soon."

"What happened?"

"Medea Aconit slipped into the city with plans to kill you. The vampire attacks served the purpose of getting me out of the city. She knew that I would see through her deception if I were around."

Hermione looked incredulous. "What? But how did she—"

"Apparently one of the employees of the witch who sold you the fabric for the gowns was a member of the Thieves' Fellowship. He spread the word that Regina was going to make your gown. She'd already arranged for passage into Concordia, because she'd been planning to poison you, and a whole lot of guests through the food," Wolfe said. "Not that it would have worked. Captain Kovalenko assigned ten Rangers to the task of making sure _that_ didn't happen. We would have caught her if she'd tried it."

Ginny failed to contain her annoyance. "And you didn't tell _me_?"

"We didn't want to ruin your moment with those worries," Wolfe said apologetically.

"Oh, never mind," Ginny huffed. She knew they had meant well, and the pre-wedding bliss had been sort of nice. "There's something that has me confused, though. If those vampire attacks were meant to draw you away from Concordia, she shouldn't have told the vampires about it. She should've known that you'd get the information out of their minds, right?"

"She's a better schemer than that, so I doubt she told those vampires exactly why they had to go on a killing spree, in case they were caught. Anyway, I didn't get the information from their minds. I was still tracking them six hours ago. I was getting closer, but I wouldn't have caught up with them until tomorrow. If it hadn't been for my enhanced senses transferred from the pendants, they would have been able to toy with me and lead me on a wild goose chase like they intended to, and I wouldn't have caught them at all."

"Then how—"

Wolfe raised his hand to cut her off. "I would've concluded that I'd been lured away, but at that point it would have been too late. Fortunately, Commander Ironheart's plan to cut Wormtail loose with a parasitic personality has paid off. He's become quite the mid-level information broker over the past few years. Aconit used one of his people to pass her instructions on to the vamps she hired."

"How did he find you?" Hermione asked.

"I paid _him_ a visit," Wolfe explained. "When I realised that those vampires were probably keeping me busy, I went to the rat's nest and milked him for information."

Heidi's eyes narrowed. "He knew what Medea Aconit was planning?"

Wolfe shook his head. "No, but he knew that she had sent a message to the vampires I was chasing. That was enough for me to know that she wanted me out of Concordia. I assumed that she wanted me out of the way to try and kill you. The fact that she'd lured me away suggested that she was using a strategy that required her to get close to _you_, personally."

"Wait a minute," Hermione interrupted. "If that's true, Harry would have discovered her too."

"Maybe," Wolfe conceded. "But very few people know that Harry and I copied each other's powers. It was a blind spot in her intelligence. Still, she had tradition on her side. Everyone knows that the groom isn't supposed to see the bride in her dress until the wedding ceremony. Harry wouldn't have been around to protect Ginny."

Hermione groaned. "I can't believe it, I told Harry to stay away because of that!"

"It's all right, little sister. It doesn't matter anymore."

Ginny ran the facts through her mind and deduced how Medea Aconit had planned to kill her. "She was going to poison the dress."

Wolfe smiled. "I reached the same conclusion. Fortunately, I caught her before she got the chance. When Geo escorts Regina here, you can put on the dress right away."

"She came into the city with the help of the Thieves' Fellowship, didn't she?" Heidi said

The Rangers knew that there was another back door into Nomad Island, aside from the Citadel, and they knew it was controlled by the Thieves' Fellowship.

"That's the part that worries me. They used to know better than to allow people on our black list into Nomad Island," Wolfe said. "I'm going to have a chat with their leaders."

"Was Medea acting alone?" Ginny asked, suddenly wondering if she was part of a larger operation.

"Yes. It was her own initiative. Still, it would probably be a good idea to step up our vigilance. I'll split myself up tomorrow to supervise the baking of the cakes and the preparation of the other food."

"I don't believe this!" Heidi growled. "You may have caught her, but she still completely ruined the wedding. Now we'll have to look over our shoulders all the time."

Ginny sighed. As upsetting as this was, she had long ago realised that it would likely become part of her life. "It's all right, Heidi. No harm was done." She turned to Max. "Can we keep this under wraps until after the wedding? I don't want my mum to worry."

"I don't know," Wolfe frowned. "If we go public now, we might keep all those self-invited guests from coming."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Wolfe, it'll keep the people we _do_ want at the wedding away too."

"That's the downside," Wolfe said casually, though the twinkle in his eyes told Ginny that he hadn't been serious. "But it'll leave more cake for me."

The doorbell rang again. 

"That'll be Regina." Wolfe briefly left the parlour and returned with Regina and George Ramos, who was carrying several bags. "Thanks for escorting her, Geo."

"No problem, boss," Ramos said, while he gently put the bags on the floor. "The dresses are here."

"The clock is ticking. I have to move quickly, lest the one who let Medea into the city goes into hiding. If he leaves the city, we'll have a hard time finding him."

Ramos' face fell. "Awww, does this mean the bachelor party's cancelled?"

"I won't attend, unless I get to the bottom of this. Cancelling the party is up to Harry," Wolfe replied, fixing his gaze on Ginny. "If he cancels it, the Weasleys are going to wonder why. It won't be the best way to keep this under wraps."

"Then he can't cancel it," Ginny decided. There was no sense in ruining things for her friends and relatives as well. "Just find out how Medea got into the city, and I'll feel a whole lot better."

"Consider it done. I'll stop by your place first, to fill Harry in on recent events."

"He's at my house, helping Ron clear the basement," Hermione said. "But I'm not sure you should tell him. If you do, he'll want to go with you, and that might raise some questions too."

"He can go with Wolfe if he wants to," Ginny said, knowing that her fiancé would feel much better if he had a personal hand in the situation's resolution. "After all, Rangers can always be called away on short notice, right? Just make sure that he doesn't miss his own bachelor party."

***

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Author's Note: I decided to throw in a chapter as a present. And so the torture begins. Anyone catch the movie references. The next chapter will be posted in New Year's day.

Happy X-mas.


	6. Chapter VI

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Disclaimer/Author's Note: Congratulations to those who spotted the B5 and Matrix references in the previous two chapters. Yes, I shamelessly borrowed moments from those sources, and credit goes to the parties responsible for their creation. And sorry for the delay, noble readers. I tried to update yesterday, but the Internet demons had other plans.

Chapter 6

"I curse you, Maximilian Wolfe!" Medea Aconit screeched, straining in the chains that kept her bound tightly to the wall. "I will have my revenge, I will deprive you of that which you hold most dear—"

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," Wolfe said disdainfully. "In the unlikely event that you manage to escape again, I'll be right there to put you back in your cage before you manage to hurt anyone." With a nod to the dwarf guard, he authorised the stunning. The dwarf pressed a button in a panel in the wall, and the witch briefly twitched in her chains as a Stunning Hex coursed through the chains. Then she fell silent, hanging limply in the chains.

"She's very creative, so don't bother enervating her when she reaches Azkaban. She might try to escape. Time will wear the stunner off, " Ironheart told Deputy Chief Nel.

"Did you see an escape plan in her mind?" the constable asked.

"She was too angry to think clearly, but like I said, she's very creative. She's escaped once before, and given half a chance, she will do so again."

Nel gave Ironheart a curious look. "How could she possibly come up with an escape plan? People can't do that when they're stunned."

"She doesn't need a plan," Ironheart said impatiently. "She only needs an opportunity. She's skilled in several martial arts and poses quite a threat, unless her limbs are securely chained behind her back… You know, you'd better stun her again shortly before arrival at Azkaban. We didn't take a blood sample, but it's possible that she ingested a potion that could help her recover from a stunner more quickly." He regarded Nel thoughtfully. "I sense that you're not taking me seriously. Perhaps I should send some of my own people along to make sure she doesn't slip away."

"That won't be necessary," Nel said quickly. "I'll make sure that your instructions are followed."

Wolfe shot the constable a dark look. "I _know _you don't intend to escort her to Azkaban personally, so how did you intend to make sure that the commander's instructions are followed? Can you be sure that your subordinates stun her as per instructions, or will they fail to take you seriously, like you failed to take us seriously just now? The odds of that happening are fairly high, considering that you were thinking about sending very inexperienced constables to guard her. She may not look very threatening, but she's killed a lot of people and evaded capture for a very long time. And I assure you that it wasn't only a matter of luck, or any incompetence on our part!"

The combined verbal assault of Wolfe and his grandfather produced results, and the constable got the point. "Very well, I'll relay your request to Chief Garibaldi, and ask him if I can personally escort the prisoner to Azkaban."

"Good man!" Ironheart nodded, and stalked off, leaving Harry and Wolfe at the high security cell.

Harry sighed. He would have felt much better if he'd been allowed to personally throw Medea Aconit to the Dementors, or if some Rangers had been assigned to the task. However, this task always befell the City Watch, and Harry knew that the Order of Illumination's interference would suggest to some folks that the Rangers believed the constables of the City Watch to be incompetent.

"You all right, kid?" Wolfe asked, as they made their up to the City Watch Headquarters' reception hall.

Harry nodded. "Thanks for protecting Ginny. I really owe you one."

"You chose me to be the Guardian. I was only doing my job."

Glancing up at Wolfe, Harry found his face impassive. "I'm serious. This is the second time you've saved Ginny."

"Don't mention it. I have a debt to you that I can never pay off."

"Consider it paid."

Wolfe stopped and turned to face Harry. "When I briefly overcame the parasitic personality and urged you to kill me, you still didn't give up on the possibility of my survival. I'm not sure I would have been so steadfast. That's what makes you better than me, and that's why I'll never consider my debt to you repaid."

Harry fell in step with him as they resumed walking. He knew that nothing he could say would change Wolfe's mind, so he allowed his mind to wander back to the events that had taken place earlier that day. As it turned out, the leaders of the Thieves' Fellowship hadn't allowed Medea Aconit into the city. It had been the work of an impatient and not too intelligent lieutenant in the Fellowship, who thought he wasn't being promoted quickly enough. He had allowed Medea Aconit passage to the city, and in exchange she was going to kill enough senior crooks to allow the lieutenant to ascend within the Fellowship's ranks. It had never occurred to the silly sod that Medea would want to keep her brief intrusion into Nomad Island a secret, and that he'd probably be killed after she'd done her job.

A little while after first arriving in Concordia, Harry had wondered why the Order of Illumination allowed this Fellowship to continue to exist. Commander Ironheart had explained to him that, unlike many other criminals, this guild had something resembling a code of conduct—well, actually more of a guideline that kept them from descending into total moral barbarism. The Fellowship also formed a front that allowed them to keep out certain elements that would be decidedly more damaging to life in Concordia.

"Wolfe, I just realised something."

"You need to beef up the wards around our homes."

This caught Harry by surprise. He hadn't been sharing his thoughts with Wolfe, but Wolfe had correctly summarised his thoughts.

Wolfe read his astonished expression and smiled. "I had the same epiphany after Robert was born. Some of the bad guys we chase are going to hold grudges, and yes, they might go after our families because of it. You've seen the magical aura around my home. There aren't many wizards alive who can break those wards. And despite what you might think in light of today's events, Concordia is still a safer place than England."

"I reckon you're right."

"I've given this a lot of thought," Wolfe admitted. "I even have Doc working on a new device. It's a Portkey bracelet that senses and reacts to threats to the person wearing them, whether or not he's aware—a bit like a foe-glass, really. We could get our kids to wear them for added protection."

"Don't they already exist?"

"Yes, but these are much smaller."

"How is it coming along?"

"Not too well. Doc knows how to make them, but the powerful magic it requires to create the bracelet's detection magic limits it to a single teleportation, after which the thing becomes useless." Wolfe threw his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, though. Our kids will be safe, and you're forgetting the most powerful deterrent."

"Which is?"

"Our new powers are a cause for great concern in the underworld. There aren't many people out there who would risk the consequences of abducting our children. And those who try will be the foolish ones who don't realistically stand a chance."

Harry smiled. Though Wolfe was being a bit boastful, there was plenty of truth to his words. Ever since the destruction of Draco and Anastasiou, the Order's foes almost always surrendered at the sight of him and Wolfe. The swift defeat of those who didn't surrender immediately only served to reinforce that trend. "C'mon, let's go home and wash up. I've got to spend some time with the Weasleys because one of my nieces has her birthday today. After that, we've got a stag party to throw."

*

Ginny was grateful that Matt had allowed the Weasleys to use his courtyard for little Scarlett's second birthday party. It wasn't really a courtyard, though everyone regarded it as one. According to Matt there used to be a house there, but it had burned down shortly before Nathan and Helga moved there. Since no new house had been built there, Matt bought the property and erected a wall that spanned from his house to Wolfe's. A heavy door that could only be opened from the inside provided access to the street. Since both their houses were backed against the large wall that separated the city's third tier from the second one, it became an enclosed square that was shared by the Kellys and the Wolfes.

"I like what you've done with this courtyard. That mosaic covering the walls is so beautiful," Molly said, admiring patterns.

"It is, isn't it?" Gudrun smiled. "It was done by dwarves."

"And the enchantment on this ceiling must have cost a fortune," Molly continued, gazing upwards. "I've only seen something like this at Hogwarts."

A year ago, Matt had secured permission from the city officials to expand his attic into a complete floor. It jutted out from the main structure of the house, supported by heavy pillars and covering about one-quarter of the courtyard. However, Matt had decided that he wanted to look at the sky when sitting under this outcropping, and hired the best charmers to do the job. In fact, Matt had turned his middle-class home into a pocket mansion, raising the value of all the other houses in the neighbourhood at the same time.

"What can I say? My husband may not have been raised to be a snob, but he certainly has a taste for the finer things in life. I suppose he'll never really blot out the fact that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

"More like a jewel-encrusted platinum spoon," Ron said, stepping in and throwing his arm around Ginny. She jumped a little, startled by his sudden appearance. "So, feeling pre-wedding jitters yet?"

"No, Ron!" Ginny rolled her eyes with exasperation. "I'm marrying the man of my dreams, yet I'm perfectly calm. _Of course_ I'm a bit jumpy."

"Be nice, Robert!" Galatea's melodious voice rang over the regular din of conversation, chastising her eldest son. Her accent had sounded unusually heavy, though the fact that she reverted from a rapid French conversation with her cousin to address her son probably had something to do with it. Little Robert immediately let go of the ear of the Wolfe family's Crup, Caesar, and began to gently pet the animal's head, encouraging his slightly younger second cousin Alan to do the same. Fleur and Galatea watched their offspring with gooey expressions, and that subtle feeling of longing returned to Ginny.

"I hope you and Matt don't move away anytime soon," she said. "It would be nice for my children to play here, too."

Her mum's eyes went wide. "Ginny, are you trying to tell us something?"

"Honestly, Mum, if I were pregnant I'd tell you! I was talking about the future."

"Well, no need to bite my head off," Molly huffed. Then her eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze to her youngest son. "Ron dear, you and Hermione have been married for over a year now. I'm sure the Grangers are wondering about grandchildren…"

Ginny fought to keep a straight face. While the Grangers probably wanted some grandchildren to spoil sometime in the future, she had a feeling that they weren't half as eager as her mother. Ron glared at Ginny, silently accusing her of bringing up the subject.

"Mum," he began. "I think that's a question for Hermione."

Ginny quickly took a gulp of butterbeer to stifle an upcoming giggle. She knew that her mum would follow Ron's instruction to the letter, and she knew that Hermione would not appreciate Ron's referral to _her_ as the source for the answers.

"Well, what's the hurry, really?" Gudrun asked. "You already have thirteen beautiful grandchildren."

"It never hurts to have more, dear," Molly said. "I'm sure your mother feels that same way I do."

"She does," Gudrun admitted. "She can't get enough of them. I sent her loads of pictures, and I arrange for a meeting at Caer Sidi at least three times a year, so she can see Mary and Rachel."

"Things would be much easier if Muggle relatives were allowed in Concordia, wouldn't it?"

"It sure would, Mrs Weasley," Gudrun sighed. "Especially since there's no telling how long a life my mother has left." 

Molly smiled briefly. "Call me Molly, dear. There are four other Mrs Weasleys here—it'll avoid needless confusion. I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. She isn't well?"

Gudrun shook her head sadly. "The Muggles have ways to delay the inevitable, but she won't live as long as she would normally have been able to. Her disease seems to be in spontaneous remission, though. Those things happen, but they rarely last two years. Her doctors can't explain it. Like it's some sort of miracle—" A frown appeared on Gudrun's face as she pondered the possibility. She glanced over at Matt, who seemed to be discussing Quidditch with Charlie Sr. "Or some type of sorcery."

"But wouldn't that be against the law?" Molly gasped.

"You know something about this, don't you, Ron?" Gudrun said slowly, giving Ron an icy-cold stare. Ginny glanced at her brother, who was squirming uncomfortably next to her.

"Well—err—hypothetically," he began hesitantly. "It wouldn't be illegal to give a Muggle an amulet that freezes a disease's progress indefinitely, because international wizarding law only mentions cures." 

"That loophole was patched years ago, Ron," Ginny groaned. What had her brother got himself into now? "There's a long listed of banned amulets that keep disease at bay, and they're classified under _cures_."

Ron shrugged. "Hypothetically, there could be an amulet somewhere in an ancient vault, which predates all those laws and isn't listed anywhere. Strictly speaking, that wouldn't be illegal, would it?"

Gudrun's icy expression melted. She excused herself, strolled over to her husband, grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into the most passionate kiss Ginny had seen since their wedding.

"Wow, sweetheart, what was that for?" Matt asked after Bill and Charlie's catcalls had died down.

"Oh, nothing. Just testing a hypothesis," Gudrun replied airily.

Matt shot Ron a quizzical look, and Ron returned an 'I'll tell you later' look.

"Robert, be nice!" Galatea's voice rang out again, after a high-pitched wail came from the sandbox. Ginny glanced over to the sandbox, where Robert and Alan were playing. Little Rachel and Scarlett, the birthday girl, had joined them at some point, and Robert hastily released Rachel's pigtail from his fist and petted her head gently, like he'd done with his Crup. "Kiss and make up, Robert," Galatea continued, and her son dutifully leaned over and planted a wet one on Rachel's cheek, eliciting more coos and giggles from Fleur and Galatea.

Rachel seemed to be unimpressed by the peace offering, however, because moments later she dumped a bucketful of sand over Robert's lap. The little boy retaliated by tossing a shovel at her, striking her on the side of the head, and Rachel began to wail again. Robert, clever little lad that he was, knew he'd gone too far. He scrambled out of the sandbox and headed over to the nearest coffee table, before hurrying back with a pair of chocolate covered cookies. He offered one to Rachel, who immediately ceased her wailing and snatched it out of his hand.

Ron chuckled. "Nothing like Belgian chocolate to get a girl's forgiveness. You women try to pretend that you're so deep, but the truth of the matter is that the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. Clever lad—took _me_ twenty years to work that one out. Of course, a woman born to a pair of dentists is so much better at hiding that little fact, so my late discovery hardly makes me the biggest prat of the male species."

Ginny snorted. "Where did you learn about that ridiculous idea?"

"Dad hinted at it once, and I also heard it from Commander Ironheart."

Molly laughed. "I did have a bit of a weakness for pastries. I still do, actually," she added, and made her way over to where Hannah and Angelina were sitting to claim one of the delicious-looking pastries.

Ginny remembered how Aria Ironheart devoured a whole tray of pastries while trying to comfort her after Holly turned up. "I imagine Aria Ironheart's fond of them, too."

"She's fond of pastries like Mum is, is she?" Ron said darkly. Ginny wondered why Ron's mood had swung around like that, but she had no time to ponder it, because Susie and Millie latched on to her and dragged her over to the children's corner of the courtyard to show her a trick they had taught Fred. She found her nearly five-year-old nephew beaming at her with over a dozen cookies stuffed in his mouth, while his three-year-old brother and sister, Duncan and Cassidy were handing more cookies to Bill's eldest son Alroy. Their slightly older cousin was trying to find another aperture to stuff in yet another cookie, while his five-year-old sister looked on disapprovingly. Her cousin Grace, Percy's eldest, and Ginny's goddaughter, seemed to share Amelie's disapproval.

Ginny sighed. At Susie and Millie's age she too would have been inclined to find out exactly how many cookies would fit into Fred's mouth, but being an adult she knew better than to let the game continue, lest her nephew choke. "All right, that's very good, but I need you to spit out the cookies now."

"Awwww!" the Weasley children chorused. Fred's own protest was muffled by the cookies, of course. He and his sisters stalked off to join Charlie Jr and Arthur's Quaffle-tossing game, while Amelie, Alroy, Grace and the twins, trooped off to the sandbox to join Robert, Rachel, Scarlett and Alan. 

Being Ginny's Maiden, Heidi later turned up to reintroduce herself to the family, and more specifically, to Ginny's mum, whose only real-live memory of Heidi was from Harry's funeral service at Hogwarts. Ginny's stories had long ago convinced her mum that Heidi was okay, and after only half an hour she was treating Heidi like one of her own. Susie and Millie even went over to ask if Heidi was related, much to the amusement of the adults.

As the afternoon drew to a close, she and Heidi sat on a cushioned wicker sofa. Heidi was giving her godson, Henry, a bottle while Ginny cradled Rose's sleeping form. While Ginny nursed a nearly empty glass of orange juice, they talked about the upcoming wedding, both giddy with anticipation since the hour of the ceremony was less than two days away. Then, for the third time that afternoon, a loud wail emanated from the sandbox.

"Robert!" Galatea said sharply, leaping up from her chair and allowing her long legs to take giant steps as she strode over to the sandbox. Ginny downed the pulpy remains of her orange juice and turned her eyes to the sandbox. She saw little Robert with his jaws locked around Duncan's lower arm, while he pried one of the wooden shovels out of the older boy's hand. When he succeeded, he triumphantly handed it to a tearful Rachel, right before his mother picked him out of the sandbox. She sat down next to Ginny and gave him a spanking.

"Oi, it's not his fault, Auntie Tea," Charlie exclaimed. "Duncan stole Rachel's shovel. He was just taking it back!"

"That-doesn't-make-it-right," Galatea said, in between spankings.

"Duncan!" Angelina called her son over, and the boy reluctantly got out of the sandbox and made his way over to his frowning mother, dragging his feet as if they were made of cement. Unlike Robert, he didn't get a spanking, though Angelina made him sit in front of her while he gave him a stern talking to about being nice to the younger children.

Robert was sitting on the floor in front of Galatea, Heidi, and Ginny, letting out an occasional sniffle, but beyond the couple of tears that flowed down his cheeks, it was the only visible sign of his misery. Rachel stepped out of the sandbox and walked over to him. She took his hand and motioned for him to stand up and follow her back to the sandbox. A quick sideways glance revealed a warm smile on Galatea's face. She obviously didn't have the heart to call Robert back, even though he was supposed to be cooling off. Before Robert and Rachel stepped back into the sandbox, she reached up and wiped Robert's tears away with her tiny, sand covered hand, leaving a few grimy streaks on his face.

Ginny caught an odd glint in Rachel's purple eyes as she tried to dry Robert's tears. All of a sudden, Ginny's sight faded, replaced by a bright white light as a particularly painful headache settled in her skull. She managed to shift her niece from her own lap to Galatea's, before her senses were with assaulted by flashes of images and sounds.

Among the visions, she saw a boy of around six years old offer his ice cream to a girl who had accidentally dropped her cone. Then there was one of two teenagers—the same people she'd seen before, but older—sharing their first kiss on a beach, under the setting sun. Time skipped ahead yet again to young adults in Ranger uniforms. The man's face was a mix of Wolfe and Galatea's, and the woman was a purple-eyed Gudrun with minor facial differences. They were sharing a laugh with some Ranger friends, a younger one among them looking a lot like Harry.

Ginny felt her headache beginning to worsen, but she was too curious to stop now. The mists of time parted again, showing the young man who looked like Harry, talking to the blue-eyed Wolfe and the purple-eyed Gudrun, who was pregnant. A red-haired woman slid under the young Harry's arm and joined the conversation. She was pregnant too, a bit farther along than the purple-eyed Gudrun. The women laughed and placed their hands on each other's bellies. And then a pair of familiar faces stepped into the picture. She saw Ron, who looked just like her dad with only a bit of red hair on an otherwise bald scalp. Harry soon followed, with a bit of grey in his hair, but looking relatively young compared to Ron. He threw his arm around his younger likeness in a fatherly way and looked into Ginny's eyes, calling her over. It was her son—_their son_—it _had_ to be.

"Oh, God, Ginny! Are you all right? Answer me!"

She immediately recognised Harry's voice, but she couldn't reply. His ring felt like it was burning on her finger, though the heat didn't cause any pain. She staggered away from the bench, gesturing for Harry to keep his distance. There was a sharp pressure building just beneath her shoulder blades, as if something was pushing to get out. She willed whatever was there to come forth, and there was a brief tearing sound before she was blessed with relief.

There was a collective gasp in the courtyard, telling her that it was either something marvellously impressive or something hideously wrong.

"Mummy?" Cassidy Weasley was the first one to speak. "Mummy, is Auntie Ginny an angel?"

***

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Lord Dreadnault: I don't want to spread myself too thinly over too many sites right now. I might consider posting there in the more distant future. BTW, who did the job on Bonnie Wright's eyes at SIYE? That was superb.

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OHGinnyfan: Thank my beta Christine for the description of the rings.

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StarWest45: Did you catch _all_ the B5 references?

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The Keymaker: Yeah, Harry's growing up and learning to do things that go against his nature, for the greater good. And I am so _not better_ than JK.

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CatatonicReaction: I've never been to Montreal. I'd like to go there sometime, though. 

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Gogirl: Actually, the rings are my beta Christine's doing. And so will be Ginny and Heidi's dress, which will be described in chapter 10. On another note, I have to amend my prediction. The story will be 11 chapters long. But that's the definite number, since I'm finished now. I'm working hard on the next fic. I can't predict when it'll come out, but there's going to be a bit of a gap between stories. About two months, as things are now. The gap could get bigger or smaller, depending on my inspiration. As for your review to chapter 5; _Medea_ is actually a figure in Greek mythology. She is a sorceress who helped Jason steel the golden fleece. The fell in love and had two children, but then Jason fell in love with another woman, and Medea killed her with a poisoned gown. And in Snow White, the apple was poisoned. The corset was merely bound so tightly that she couldn't breathe. (Like in Pirates of the Caribbean.)

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nycgal: I've decided not to write long and complicated stories full of subplots, like MW and EaL anymore. Instead I plan to write shorter and simpler fics. (Simpler to write that is. Not less exiting to read, I hope.)

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LadySiri: You got the math wrong. Harry & Co are from 1980, as am I. :-)

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The Bronze Snidget: Eh, I don't understand your comment for chapter 4. What after-effects? 

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Miss Frizz: Thanks. If you want to know when the next update will be check the date of the latest update, and add ten days to that.

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mentosadidasgirl17: You want something to keep you busy while I work on the next fic, don't you?

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KEDme: You're welcome.

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Fragarach: Got yourself an account, I see.

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Wolfe550e: GT net politics?

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Anon: Nah, it was just The Matrix in chapter 5.

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Ginny1946: Anne enjoyed that one too.

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Kalen:There won't be any action like in EaL or Mind War.

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jynzx: I don't know the name. But it's a bit like a wrench, and the mandibles measure the diameter of the inside of the ring.

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Ferret Of Darkness: Thank you.

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Alice of Wonderland: You won't have to wait too long to find out.


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter 7

"Ginny isn't ill, if that's what you're worried about," Captain Sharif said, pushing his examination goggles over his head. "Today's manifestations are a delayed result of Holly's intervention two years ago. I noticed the change in Ginny's cellular structure back then, but as there seemed to be no negative side effects, I chose not to say anything about it unless she manifested her powers, which happened today."

Harry nearly wept with joy and relief as he heard the news. Ginny would be okay.

"Since I don't have a base standard for Draconian physiology, it's hard to predict the extent of the changes Ginny will go through over time," Sharif continued. "From what she told me, she seems to have gained a powerful inner eye, and the wings mean she's very likely to be able to fly. She doesn't seem to have the superhuman strength that Holly has, and I'm not sure whether she'll be able to fly as fast or as high as Holly could."

"Is there anything you _are_ sure about?" Ron asked tersely.

Sharif nodded. "She has tremendous recuperative abilities, and her cellular decay is almost imperceptible. If injured, she'll heal very quickly—" The Egyptian Healer briefly hesitated before he finished the sentence. "And I also deem it very likely that she'll live long enough to survive you by a hundred years."

"How long will she live?" Harry caught the tremor in Hermione's voice as she asked the question.

"Hard to say," Sharif sighed. "Unless she dies an unnatural death, at least two-hundred and fifty years. This is different than Harry and Wolfe's powers from the pendant. Those are a part of you too, to be sure, but in Ginny's case, this magic is entwined with her very essence. She'll pass on the longevity to her children, though it'll decrease slightly with every generation. Still, I suppose it'll be welcome news to her that she won't survive her _own_ children thanks to that."

"Just everyone else's," Ron said gloomily. "Did you tell _Ginny_ that she'll see us all shrivel up and grow old while she'll still look thirty-ish when she's hundred years old?"

"Yes, how is she taking it?" Hermione asked anxiously, voicing Harry's own concern.

"Not too badly." Sharif scratched his bald head. "She seems more concerned about losing control of her wings and ripping her dress apart during the reception, the day after tomorrow."

Ron began to laugh. "More concerned with the here and now. That's just like Ginny. So you're sure that she'll be all right, physically?"

Sharif nodded.

"All right, then I'll tell Mum and the family. I bet she'll lay siege to the Citadel if—"

Ron didn't get the chance, because Molly Weasley's hysterical voice echoed through the Citadel's medical wing. "Where is my daughter?"

He went pale under his freckles. "Oh, bloody hell. Who let her in?"

"We're nearly there. I'm sure she's fine. Imhotep told me to expect a change in your daughter, though we thought that it would happen a little sooner than this," Ironheart's soothing voice replied. Moments later, they appeared in Sharif's office. He had his arm over her shoulder in a very familiar way, and Harry knew trouble when he saw it. Glancing at Ron, he saw that the paleness had disappeared from his features, replaced by angry reddening and pulsing veins on his forehead.

He didn't have to be a Mind Reader to sense Ron's desire to hex Ironheart into oblivion. To make matters worse, the commander's hand was now soothingly stroking Molly's lower back. It looked like Ironheart—in the absence of his wife and Commander Nomvete—seemed determined to seduce Molly.

Harry quickly employed his gift to see what Ironheart's chances of success were. He picked up thoughts and feelings of gratitude from Molly's mind, as well as a strong attraction, though it was partially restrained by guilt caused by memories of her deceased husband. However, she was rationalising her guilt away by telling herself that Arthur wouldn't mind if she found a worthy man to spend the rest of her days with, and she was already toying with the thought of moving to Concordia.

It was time to engage the emergency brakes. He cleared his throat. "Commander, I think C&C received a message from your _wife_ a few minutes ago." He barely suppressed a wince as his mind heard Molly's dreams violently crash down. Obviously, she hadn't known that her knight in shining armour was a married one.

Though his face didn't reveal it, Ironheart's annoyance at Harry interference was obvious.

Harry opened his mind and projected his feelings on the matter to Ironheart. Molly Weasley was like the mother he never had, and he wouldn't let her become another notch on Ironheart's bedpost.

From Ironheart, he then got the distinct impression that that wasn't at all the case, and that he was genuinely developing feelings for the fascinating and feisty woman that was Molly Weasley.

Harry dryly answered that he thought that Donovan Jr was doing the thinking, because no one could develop genuine feelings other than lust mere moments after meeting someone. Then he proceeded to tell Ironheart to cease and desist his efforts, lest Harry reveal his romantic moments with the other female Rangers to Commander Nomvete, the disastrous consequences be damned. 

Ironheart feebly protested that it was blackmail.

Harry smugly admitted that it was, but that it was nevertheless very effective. This exchange of thoughts happened in the fraction it took for Molly to step a bit further away from Ironheart, breaking the intimate distance.

"Well, here you are. Imhotep will tell you everything you want to know about your daughter," Ironheart said. "Mr Weasley, kindly escort your mother back to the public reception hall and take her home after she's done. I must get back to work." No doubt having sensed Ron's ire, Ironheart quickly left the office.

"Bloody hell, Mum, you're not allowed to be here," Ron erupted.

"She has permission from the highest authority, so we're past that point," Sharif said. "Kindly follow me to the examination room."

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "Fill in the rest of the relatives about the situation, would you?"

"What about the stag party?" Ron asked.

"Honestly, is that—" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off. 

"The last thing I need is for you two to begin arguing like a married couple."

Ron blinked. "Mate, we _are _a married couple."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right, but my point still stands. Tell the family that Ginny will be all right. As for the stag party, that's entirely up to Ginny. If she realises the implications of her transformation and needs me to comfort her, there's no stag party."

*

Later on, however, Ginny had merrily told her family that she'd cross the ageing bridge at the appropriate time, which was roughly a hundred years in the future, and told Harry, Matt, Wolfe and her brothers to go have their stag party. As an afterthought, she had mischievously added that her headache had been a powerful inner-eye kicking in, and that unless she was very much mistaken, Matt and Wolfe were going to be in-laws through Rachel and Robert.

"Well, Wolfe," Matt said, as they walked to The Lovely Lady Lounge, which Matt had rented off until two o'clock. "I suppose my little girl could do worse than your brat."

"_'Could do better?'_ My son will the best thing that ever happened to your daughter."

"Don't you two think you're getting ahead of yourselves?" Bill grinned. "Maybe Ginny was seeing Galatea's wishful thinking. She and Fleur kept going on about how cute Rachel and Robert looked together. What is it with women and their urge to pair everyone off, anyway? I mean, Fleur was reading a novel the other day, and there wasn't even a romantic element. But she kept droning about which man would end up with which woman."

"It's called 'shipping'," Percy said knowledgeably. "Hannah told me about it."

Ron frowned. "Shipping?"

"As in relation-_ship_," Harry said. "Aunt Petunia loved doing it with her soap opera characters. In situations where it isn't clear if anyone will end up together, people tend to let their fantasies roam free and begin to pair up characters in their head."

"Well then, let's do some shipping of our own," Matt said, a devious grin plastered all over his face. "Commander Ironheart seemed very interested in your Mum." He was looking at the Weasley brothers as he said it.

Charlie gasped. "Bloody hell, Jasmine and I never told Mum that he was married. We've got to warn her. Not that I don't like the bloke, but—"

"I already took care of it," Harry said. "He won't try to get to know your Mum more intimately." He turned to Matt. "You know, suppose Ginny really does become a Seer and she's right about Rachel and Robert. One would be inclined to wonder why both your daughters end up with Ironheart's descendants."

"That'll be their mother's fault," Matt said quasi-ruefully. "She's a sucker for handsome blokes, and they take after her in taste and attitude. Did you see how quickly Rachel got Robert to do anything to get her to stop whining? And poor Nicolai! Let's hope that his genius allows him to cope with Mary's tantrums. She's a real wild—Ah, gentlemen, The Lovely Lady Lounge." He nodded to a building appearing around the gentle curve of the street.

"You rented this place for the night?" Bill asked Matt. "I heard the entire serving staff consists of part-Veela women. Must've cost a fortune."

"Not really. I own the place."

"What?" Harry and Wolfe exclaimed simultaneously.

"I saw potential. Business was so-so, but I knew that it could be a goldmine with the right management. When I bought the place last year, I kept the staff, because they weren't really the problem. The real problem was the way they were being used. The girls had to dress as skimpily as possible. The wizarding world isn't ready for that yet, and it only attracted unsavoury types."

"Yeah, the look was rather cheap," Charlie nodded.

"You've been there before?" Ron asked. "What did Jasmine have to say about it?"

"Nothing. It was perfectly innocent. A few colleagues took me there, back when it was still called the Wicked Wench. C'mon, little bro', my wife's a Mind Reader. Couldn't lie to her even if I wanted to."

"Yeah, and you'd best never decide to try your luck," Wolfe grumbled.

Charlie laughed. "She'd be more than capable of dealing with me herself. Anyway, the colleagues and I also came here after the new management took over. I must say, I like what you did with the place, Matt."

"Thanks," Matt said. "I knew that getting the girls to wear those Muggle cocktail-dresses would be a big hit. They're elegant, yet provocative. Nothing quite like them in the wizarding world. The girls like them too. So much, in fact, that they didn't want to wear them for fear of spilling drinks on them." He walked up to the door and knocked. "Potter's Bachelor Party's here, mate."

The swung open and revealed a wizard in formal robes. He dwarfed Matt in both length and sheer bulk. Ron guessed that he even would have dwarfed Nathan. This wizard was over seven and a half feet tall, and he looked vaguely familiar to Ron, though he didn't know where he'd seen him before. Very few humans grew that large, though, so he had to be part giant.

"Hello, Olaf!"

"Good evening, Mr Kelly," the wizard's voice boomed as he stepped aside to allow the group in.

"One of Helga's little brothers," Matt explained. "Both her brothers work here on alternating days."

"Aren't they in the building industry?" Ron asked.

"Yep. Who d'you think renovated the place for me? They've also got black belts at judo and are advanced duellers at the club in Concordia. They play bouncer for fun. C'mon, I'll give you a tour of the place later. But first…"

"Harry!" a bunch of people cheered as Matt led Harry into the lounge. Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Dennis Creevey, Lee Jordan, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Oliver Wood were sitting in the richly decorated lounge.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Lee, Neville, Seamus, Dennis, Wood! I wasn't expecting you until my wedding day."

"Miss a party? Never!" Seamus laughed.

"I was honoured to be asked, Harry," Dennis Creevey said.

"Once I heard about the Veela women, I was in," Lee grinned. "Just don't tell my wife I said that."

Wood smiled. "I reckoned someone had to keep this lot out of trouble."

"Good luck to you then, Wood. Harry attracts trouble," Neville said.

"I've seen so many single friends enter the institution of marriage," Aberforth sighed. "I suppose I could see off one more."

"And speaking of institutions—" Bill deftly caught something Seamus had tossed at him. He presented it to Harry, who looked at Ron inquisitively.

Ron grinned broadly. "This is 'phase one' of your bachelor party. A straitjacket. The Muggles can't do body binds, so—"

"I know what it is, Ron. You expect me to wear that?"

"Yes. It symbolises the institution of marriage. Come on, put it on."

"Do you expect me to use my wand-less magic all night to drink?"

"Don't worry about that, Harry," Matt said, helping Ron with slipping on the jacket and fastening it. "One of the lovely waitresses will hold your drinks to your lips."

"That would be me," a decidedly masculine voice grumbled. 

Ron turned Harry around, allowing him to see Wolfe wearing a provocative evening gown. One of the giggling women rushed over to steady him when he nearly lost his balance on his stiletto heels. With a wig and make-up on, he looked remarkably like Jasmine, if Ron worked his imagination really hard and edited out the hairy chest and the equally hairy legs that showed through the thigh high double slits.

Charlie doubled over with laughter, no doubt having similar thoughts.

Harry glanced back at the other Wolfe, which promptly disappeared. "A duplicate for appearances' sake. I've been here for about half an hour. Since I'm the Guardian, I get to suffer with you tonight."

When the straightjacket was snugly in place, Ron called for the other articles. A mock-up of the old ball-and-chain was clasped around Harry's ankle, and a toy version of a rusty old battle-axe was tucked into the crook of his folded arms. "These are the wife and the mother-in-law."

"But I don't think your mum's a rusty old battle-axe," Harry protested.

"Just wait until you're part of the family." Bill laughed. "Hey, don't worry about it. Mum won't hold it against you."

"One more thing—Flo, your final fling!" Lee Jordan said, bowing with a flourish as a red-faced Dennis Creevey brought forward a Muggle blow-up doll, which they handcuffed around Harry's neck.

"All right, so what do we do now?" Harry asked.

*

They had paraded him around town like that, and his task had been to scrounge clothes for 'Flo the final fling' by asking women to take off an article of their clothing and donate it to the cause. Fortunately the doll had already been wearing knickers, because knickers would have been impossible to scrounge.

Thus Harry had worked his way from the bra to the cloak. Padma and Parvati, bless them, had given him bra and a blouse, while Vesta Gaal had helped him enormously by stepping out of her skirt and handing it to Ron. Some members of Potter's Posse had remained transfixed by the sight of Vesta's very shapely legs, until Aberforth stepped forward and wrapped his cloak around her. A pair of giggling witches in their late teens had provided Flo's shoes and cloak, as well as their names and address, to allow the items to be returned. When they gave Wolfe the address, they whispered something in his ear, which prompted him to raise his hand and clearly show them his wedding band.

All in all, it hadn't taken them that long to scrounge the clothes. Harry soon found himself comfortably seated in The Lovely Lady Lounge—at least, as comfortable as a straightjacket would allow—after they'd checked in their wands at a place that was exceptionally secure for a private establishment. Doc and Wilson had designed it, and some security devices based on Ranger designs had been installed.

"So basically, there are now different activities every night," Matt said, explaining the secret of the club's success. "Many of these girls can dance, and I mean _really _dance. So Mondays through Wednesdays, the lounge is cleared of most of its furniture and the girls give dancing lessons to anyone who's interested, for a modest fee. Every wizard who started out in the beginner's class on Monday ended up coming back for intermediate and advanced classes."

"No wonder. Anything to be near these women," Seamus said. "Maybe I ought to look for a job here."

"Not a chance," Percy said. "I just gave you a raise, and your contract says you have to stick with the Ministry for at least another year."

Seamus scowled. "Bloody fine-print."

"Hey Matt, what about women? Can they get lessons here?" Charlie asked. "It would be nice for Jasmine to stop flattening my toes in the near future."

"Says a man who used to work with dragons," Bill commented, and everyone laughed.

"Women are welcome too," Matt nodded. "The manager worked out a deal with a few male dance instructors to teach part-time. But it's not just singles that come here for lessons. We've got lots of couples taking lessons together. So if you're interested, Charlie … "

"I'll ask Jasmine if she's interested."

"So what happens in this place the rest of the week?" Neville asked.

"On Saturdays, the place is open for dancing. No lessons, just regular people coming here to have a good time, though I've been told that the people who take the lessons on weekdays are almost always here to show off their new dancing skills. On Thursdays and Fridays, it's a gentleman's club, and a few exotic dancers perform after midnight." Matt paused and smiled as he looked at something behind Harry. "Oh, Gavin, Rolf and Geo made it. Right, where was I?"

"The exotic dancers performing after midnight," Harry said.

"Ah, right. So that's no longer the main focus here, like it was when this was still The Wicked Wench. It more about simply unwinding in the presence of women who've been trained in the art of entertaining."

"Like Geisha?" Gavin Carey asked, sitting down in an armchair between Dennis and Neville's.

"Yeah, I suppose you could compare it to that."

"It's midnight already. Where are the exotic dancers?" Seamus asked eagerly.

"I sort of told the manager not to let them perform tonight. I didn't want the pictures taken tonight to land anyone in the doghouse. But the lounge is open 'till six in the morning, so I reckon we could stay about half an hour after the doors open to the public, to see one of the performers."

Harry thought it was time for another sip of his fruity cocktail, and Wolfe dutifully brought the drink close enough for Harry to reach the straw.

"Look how Wolfina's always immediately there when Harry wants a sip. It's almost as if they're telepathic. They'd make such a cute couple," Seamus teased.

Harry grinned. Seamus knew about Wolfe's gift, but he didn't know about Harry having copied it. "Very funny, Finnigan. Charlie's really the lucky one, though. His wife can read his mind."

"That's what you think." Charlie gave them a mournful look. "If you blokes have a falling out with the girlfriends or wives, you can always play the 'I didn't mean it that way' card. Not possible if the wife can read your mind."

"Speaking of wives, does Gudrun know about this place?" Harry asked Matt.

"Of course she does. Who do you think came up with the idea for the waitresses' strapless mini-dresses and matching neckpieces?"

"Give your wife my thanks when you get home," Seamus said, while his gaze followed a particularly long-legged Veela woman. He'd hardly taken his eyes off the waitresses all night. Despite his best efforts to appear nonchalant, Percy's ears were red. Charlie and Ron seemed better adapted to the situation, since living in Concordia meant running into part-Veela more often. Like Bill and Wolfe, Dennis was completely unaffected. It was hardly surprising, because he'd started seeing Gabrielle Delacour again after she had finished school in June. Like the older men, he was used to the Veela charm.

Looking at Aberforth and Lee, Harry saw that they had interrupted their deep discussion to appreciatively stare at the waitresses. "Enjoying yourself, old man?"

Aberforth smiled. " My dear boy, age hasn't affected my eyesight."

"What have you two been talking about all this time?"

"Back when we were at school, Fred and George broke into Filch's office," Lee began.

"More than once."

Lee grinned broadly. "And they brought a trophy with them every time. This particular time the found a very old notebook that belonged to a student who had attended Hogwarts over a hundred years before. It was full of notes on making fireworks. That's where they got some of their ideas. Turns out that Aberforth here wrote it. He's agreed to whip up some demo sparkles and show them at the end your reception."

"Fireworks, cool!" Dennis said.

"Evening, gents," a tall and voluptuous woman wearing a slinky black catsuit greeted them. Her brown hair was tied back in a severe bun, and a pair of tiny spectacles rested on her nose, making a little like a very young Professor McGonagall, though Professor McGonagall would probably never, _ever_ dress like that. The woman sat down in Matt's lap, prompting frowns and raised eyebrows from Wolfe and Ron. Harry knew her, because she became Padma Patil's new roommate shortly after Perse left to pursue her musical career.

"Brace yourselves for the evening's second big surprise. I'm sure you already know Wendy Dusza through Padma, but you may not know that she's my cousin. She manages the Lounge for me. Wendy, meet the Potter Posse."

"Charmed," Wendy said.

"I'd shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up," Harry said.

Wendy laughed. "That's all right."

"Was there anything I needed to know?" Matt asked.

"There's going to be a special performance in Mr Potter's honour."

"Really?"

"Just promise you won't be upset."

A suspicious frown crept onto Matt's face. "Is my pregnant wife going to do a striptease?"

"Bloody hell, d'you really think she'd do that?" Ron exclaimed.

She may have lost most of her piercings and stopped dying her hair, but she's every bit as crazy as she used to be."

Wendy giggled. "Really, Matt, it's not a striptease."

"All right, then. Let's see it."

Wendy happily bounced up and made her way to the stage before disappearing behind the curtain.

George Ramos let out a low whistle. "Damn, Matt. Your cousin is stacked."

"That's nothing. I've seen a picture of his _aunt_," Rolf replied.

"Wolfe, drink," Harry commanded. Wolfe held Harry's glass up, allowing him to drink some more. "Hey, what if I need to go to the bathroom?" he asked, after swallowing down the last mouthful of his drink.

"Use your wand-less magic, because _I'm_ not touching you below the belt."

Harry laughed. "Hey, don't worry. I don't need to go yet. And did you happen to peek into Wendy's mind to see what she's planning?"

Wolfe shook his head. "We agreed not to do that, remember. Why? Did _you_ take a peek?"

"I didn't look either. But I was tempted."

"Same here."

The wait for the big surprise wasn't long. A few minutes later, the curtains rose, revealing a gangly youth and a young woman on stage. Harry easily recognised the boy behind the grand piano as Nicolai, which allowed him to deduce the girl's identity. But by God, Mary really didn't look like herself.

Her normally straight locks, usually worn in a hasty ponytail, had been transformed into blonde waves that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She was wearing a form-fitting, shiny-black halter evening gown with a side slit that went up to her hip and revealed a tanned leg as she walked to the front of the stage. Matching finger-less gloves covered her arms all the way up and over her biceps. The gloves' diamond trimmings matched the diamonds that covered the gown's neckpiece. The subtle application of make-up hid any traces of youth that would have hinted at Mary's true age.

Nicolai began to play a few improvisational tunes, while Mary turned to the audience and began to slowly sway to the music, causing the diamonds, and her hair, to shimmer in the spotlight.

"Wendy, you allowed her to wear that thing? She's practically naked!" Matt hissed. He tried to stand up, but his cousin pressed him back into his chair.

"It's only a little leg showing. The gown _she_ wanted to wear would have fit your description, though. Just let her sing her songs. She's quite good, you know. If you stop her now and drag her off stage, she won't talk to you for the rest of the year. Do you want to be on such terms with your daughter before she leaves for boarding school?"

Matt relented and sagged back into his chair, and Mary began to sing her first song in a surprisingly rich and melodious alto voice. The shouting matches with Gudrun that often echoed across the street in the mother and daughter's frequent clash of wills had hinted at her capacity for volume. But the pleasant melody was new.

Mary worked her way through a repertoire of Elvis songs, starting out with "Blue Moon." Nicolai cleverly blended the accompanying tune into "Unchained Melody," and Harry was afraid that Matt would get up and strangle Nicolai when the third and final song, "Can't Help Falling in Love," was over. Mary had been staring at him instead of the audience throughout the song, making it painfully obvious which way the wind was blowing. Harry had a feeling that what bothered Matt most was the fact that his little girl had a new hero.

Nicolai helped Mary offstage during the guests' wildly enthusiastic applause, and escorted Mary to where they were sitting.

"You should be at home, and in bed," Matt pointedly said as soon as Mary sat down in the armchair Nicolai had dragged over for her. 

"But Daddy, it's the holidays. Mum said I could do it."

"Your mother said that, did she?" Matt grumbled. "Her mood swings must be clouding her mind."

"But didn't you like my songs?" Mary asked in a small voice.

Matt tried to stay angry, but failed. His scowl was replaced by a look of admiration and pride. "You sang beautifully, sweetie."

Mary beamed. "Thank you, Daddy."

"This is the little girl I saw when I married you and your wife?" Percy asked, giving Mary an incredulous once over.

"Yes. And that's the little boy who was with her," Matt said, gesturing to Nicolai.

Percy shook his head. "Unbelievable."

The remainder of the time passed rapidly. At two 'o clock, Matt told Wendy that some of the guests wished to see part of the regular Friday night programme, and gave the okay to open the doors to the regular patrons. Harry was untied, and Nicolai and Mary were sent into the kitchen, lest their innocent young minds were tarnished by the imminent nudity.

A stream of wizards poured into the lounge, and the place was full within minutes. There were several foreign parties, including the caliph of a desert-dwelling wizarding federation that encompassed most of the Sahara and the Middle-Eastern deserts, and his entourage of about thirty. The Concordian Chronicle had announced his arrival, and though Harry wasn't completely sure, he had a feeling that they were among the people who had invited themselves to the wedding.

Harry sank deeper into his armchair and brushed his hair over his lightning-shaped scar. The waitresses were soon bustling back and forth with drinks, occasionally stopping to share a laugh with some patrons, and even flirt a little. The patrons all heeded the ground rules and treated the waitresses with respect, except for the caliph, who leered at the waitresses openly, seemingly thinking that he was in some sort of meat-market. Men like him tended to think that rules didn't apply to them, and Harry guessed that he'd probably wriggled out of some sanctions by means of his wealth and power.

As stripteases went, the show had lots of tease and very little strip. The young woman peeled off layer after layer of clothing, throwing them into the applauding audience. In the end, she'd been dancing with a pair of fans, twisting this way and that, but always keeping one of the fans in front of her breasts. Some people said that all stripteases were straightforward and vulgar. Harry thought that the perceived vulgarity was a matter of opinion, and there certainly hadn't been anything straightforward about this girl's performance. All her movements were perfectly choreographed to keep her covered, and when she finally revealed herself the second before the stage's curtain dropped, Harry was impressed. It had been like a rhythmic gymnastics performance.

"Wow, if she hadn't been such a brilliant dancer, I'd have felt cheated," Seamus said.

"That's our formula," Wendy said. "We highlight the mystery and sophistication of femininity, rather than to parade women around like pieces of meat. Sophisticated men appreciate this—at least, they pretend to—and everyone wants to fit in with sophisticated men."

"Staring at naked babes is fine for fifteen-year-olds, but it gets old after a while," Matt added. "Wendy, get the kids. I'm going home."

Wendy nodded and headed to the kitchen to get Mary and Nicolai, and Matt made his way to the bathroom.

"Thanks for this great party, Harry," Dennis said. "I attended another stag party last year, but the main activity was to track a Hebridean Black dragon and stun it so we could take a picture with it. The groom got a nasty burn."

"Well, thank Matt. He organised most of it."

"That was Robert MacFusty Junior's party you were talking about, right?" Charlie asked Dennis.

Dennis nodded.

"Yeah, I was invited to that one too, but I had to pass because I didn't want to miss my daughter's birth," Charlie said. "I had already missed my son's, so missing my daughter's was not an option."

"I wish I hadn't missed Henry's birth," Wolfe said. "My patrol mission was scheduled to end a week before he'd be born, but he ended up being born two weeks premature. Galatea says he smiled at her right after he was born."

"Can babies that young actually smile?" Lee asked.

"I don't know, but I wish I'd been there anyway."

Harry sighed. Would _he _be out on a mission when Ginny gave birth to their child? More importantly, what would their child be like, because of Ginny's change? 

His musings were cut short by a shrieking voice. "Let me go!"

He followed the sound to its source. The caliph had his fat hand around Mary's wrist, and he roughly pulled her onto his lap.

"Sir, she isn't part of the staff, and you'd be out of line even if she _were_," Wendy warned.

"I always get what I want!" the fat man said. "Now be gone, or I will _convince_ your government officials to close your establishment."

Nicolai tried to push aside one of the wizards in the caliph's entourage, but the burly bodyguard grabbed him by the neck and casually tossed him nearly ten feet away, sending him crashing into one of the waitresses. A deathly silence descended upon the lounge.

Harry and Wolfe started towards the caliph's party. Although Harry's first instinct was to pound the caliph, he hoped to diffuse the situation by showing his scar. As arrogant as the caliph was, Harry doubted that he'd dare to get on his bad side.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. No doubt alerted by the sounds of commotion followed by the silence, Matt had aborted his trip to the bathroom. "Get your filthy paws off my daughter!" he screamed, before rushing towards Mary.

The same bodyguard that had prevented Nicolai's intervention stepped in and kicked as soon as Matt was in range. 

Matt allowed the kick to pass his guard and strike him in the left side.

The wizard grimaced and groaned with pain. Harry instantly realised that Matt had used the iron body technique, making his assailant feel as if he'd kicked a steel statue.

Wearing a predatory grin, Matt grabbed the wizard's leg with his right hand, pinning it to his side, before bringing down his left elbow on the wizard's kneecap, filling the still silent room with the sickening crunch of a kneecap shattering.

Three more members of the caliph's entourage interposed themselves between Matt and their leader, and the other twenty-six got to their feet.

An animalistic roar stopped Matt in his tracks, and every single pair of eyes sought its source. Nicolai was once again on his feet, glaring at the caliph though glowing red eyes. A pair of horns had sprouted out of his forehead, and a pair of bat-like wings were tearing through the back of his robes. Harry had heard about an instance when Ironheart had been angry enough to transform. He'd assumed that Nicolai didn't have enough incubus blood left in him to do the same, but apparently he'd been wrong.

"Let my Mary go!" Nicolai roared.

The caliph made the mistake of not reacting quickly enough.

As the demon charged, all hell broke loose.

***

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Gogirl: Your assessment was accurate. :-)

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The Bronze Snidget: Well, kids fight over toys, you know.

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Suky: I think you did review EaL. I recognise your name.

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David: Another cliffhanger (sort of) just for you.

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The Keymaker: That's right. J.K. has to deal with the limitations of children's books. She simply can't use themes like adultery, and the like.

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CatatonicReaction: Nah, I would never tell my betas to hurry up. They're helping me out of the kindness of their hearts, sacrificing their valuable time to do so.

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OHGinnyfan: I assume this chapter answered your questions.

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Foxfur: Your review cracked me up. It's amazing how you mentioned the wedding dress. As you've seen, it was a concern of Ginny's too. And with regards to Heidi not seeing anyone … again, you have touched onto something that will develop into a subplot. It's really amazing how you seem to be able to predict where I'm going with the story.

So, your mother in law kept you busy, eh? Is she a rusty old battle-axe too? ;-) *See Harry's bachelor outfit prop* Just kidding, of course.

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LadySiri: Actually, a substantial number of Harry Potter fan fiction writers are 'older' people, north of thirty, some of them married with children.

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Lord Dreadnault: Yeah, I reckon it was done with PhotoShop, or something similar. But the way you can see right into those brown eyes made me think of J.K. Rowling's description in CoS.

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Ginny1946: Ginny doesn't have all of Holly's powers. But won't it be fun to find out which ones she _does_ have?

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anon: There's a good reason why I chose to reveal Ginny's powers at this point in the story, and not later.

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Cosmos Rose: I aim to please.

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Fragarach: Short but sweet, as are all your reviews.

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Angel of the Flames: That was a pretty deep quote from O'Brien, wasn't it? Anyway, I'm using Rowling's take on prophecies.

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Angie: Really? I though location-descriptions were my weakness.

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mentosadidasgirl17: No, I'm not planning to go _that_ far into the future. As for your questions; yes, that guideline quote was inspired by Pirates, and yes, I've seen RoTK.

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Crazyone: Thanks.

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Alice of Wonderland: I guess this chapter must have answered your questions.

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Stefanie: We can't always have what we want. I wanted Sirius to survive OoTP, but Rowling had other plans.


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter 8

"_You_ again?" The blazing violet-blue eyes of the deputy chief constable flashed in recognition and anger as they settled on Matt. She quickened her pace as she strode into the reception hall.

"Damn, isn't this hag ever off duty?" Matt muttered under his breath.

Ron didn't agree with the hag part of the assessment. The red colouring creeping over her cheeks suited her. Like Hermione, she was sort of pretty when she was angry. 

"Would you believe it if I told you that I got in trouble just to see you again?" Matt asked unctuously, giving the woman his most dazzling smile.

Grimlock sniggered behind his book, and the dozen constables who had responded to the disturbance at The Lovely Lady Lounge shared a chuckle. Ramos and Larsson groaned. They had worked with Peterson on several occasions due to disciplinary duty, and they knew her better than most Rangers. Ron wondered how severe Matt's mistake was.

Peterson was momentarily taken aback, and the flush on her cheeks intensified, probably due to embarrassment. A glare at her subordinates silenced them. "Stop giggling like little boys and tell me what the hell is going on." She fixed her gaze on the same young wizard Ron had seen her scold just a few days ago. "Constable Manilow?"

"We have conflicting accounts of the events, ma'am. There were two groups in the brawl, each with their own account of events. And the bystanders each have a different story to tell."

Peterson looked at the caliph's sole remaining henchman. The others had been taken to hospital due to the extent of their injuries. "You said two _groups_. There's only one wizard."

"The others are being patched up at the House of Healing. And I doubt you'll get any useful information out of this guy. Ahmed told me he keeps rambling about being attacked by transvestite triplets from hell."

"I think he meant me," Wolfe said.

Peterson's eyes widened in dismay as she saw Wolfe in his female garb. "Good Lord, you look grotesque."

"I think the dress isn't my colour," Wolfe replied evenly, eliciting chuckles from the audience.

Peterson rolled her eyes and began pacing back and forth, no doubt trying to decide what to do next. She stopped to Ron's left, in front of Bill, and looked him in the eyes. "You're a Weasley, aren't you?"

"Yes constable. Bill Weasley, at your service," Bill replied

"Yes, I can see the resemblance. I don't recognise you, though. From out of town, I assume?"

"Right again."

"Tell me, what happened?"

Bill grinned, seemingly unhampered by his split lip. "By Merlin, I can't recall the last time I was in a fight like that. No moral ambiguity, no hopeless struggle against the overwhelming forces of evil. _They_ were the bad guys, as you Americans say, and _we _were the good guys. And they made a very satisfying thump when they hit the floor."

"Right." Peterson gave him a dubious smile. "I was hoping you'd tell me about what caused the fight."

"I'll tell you what caused the fight," Matt erupted. "That depraved caliph tried to force himself on my daughter. And if I'd reached him before the kid had, I'd have killed that no good son of a—"

"Hold it!" Peterson bellowed. When it was clear that Matt would allow her to talk, she continued. "Unless you had children when you were nine, you can't have a daughter who would be old enough to have been allowed into that establishment. Ergo, I'm assuming that we're talking about the same girl who landed you in jail before. What was an eleven-year-old girl doing in the Lovely Lady Lounge to begin with?"

"Hey, don't talk about me like I'm not in the room!" Mary huffed.

Again, Peterson was taken aback. She looked from Matt to Mary, and back. "Oh yes, you have the same eyes. But she's _eleven_? I thought she was one of the Veela women."

"I'm still here!" Mary said impatiently. "What am I, invisible?"

The corners of Peterson's mouth curved upwards ever so slightly, and she turned to Mary. "All right, then. Can you tell me what happened? Start off by telling me what you were doing there."

"Okay." Mary nodded, and she took a theatrical breath before she began to rattle away. "My daddy wanted to throw Harry a bachelor party so he closed the club down until two 'o clock but I wanted to give Harry a gift and I'm a really good singer and Nicolai can play lots of musical instruments so we asked my mother and my daddy's cousin who runs the lounge if it was okay for me and Nicolai to do an act—"

"Whoa, child. Slow down, breathe, that's it!" Peterson coached Mary through some calming breaths. "So the club was closed for the party."

"Yes, ma'am." 

Peterson smiled sweetly, and Ron noticed that she was sort of pretty when she smiled, too. "You can call me Heather."

"Okay, Heather."

"So your dad closed the club until two, but he was still there at two-thirty, when the fight broke out. Why was he still there?"

Mary shrugged and looked at her father. "Why _were_ you still there, Daddy?"

"Some of the guests wanted to see the topless show, Heather."

Peterson's eyes flashed dangerously. "I didn't give _you_ permission to call me Heather."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Woman, give me a break."

"I just might," Peterson warned. "How about your nose?"

More half-restrained sniggers emanated from the crowd. 

"Okay, now we've established why your dad and the other attendees of the bachelor party were still there. Tell me, Mary, why do you think the fight started?"

"Well, Wendy came into the kitchen to tell me and my boyfriend that it was time to go home, and—"

"Wait a minute, you have a _boyfriend_? Honey, aren't you still a little young for that?"

"I don't think so. He's only nine months older than I am, and I'm really mature for my age. He is, too."

"And who _is_ your boyfriend, if I may ask?"

Ron leaned forward a little and caught a glimpse of Nicolai as Mary took his hand. "This is my boyfriend, Nicolai Savin."

As Peterson looked Nicolai over, the incredulity in her voice grew. "He's _twelve_?"

"I'll be twelve in September, ma'am," Nicolai said shyly.

"Congratulations, Mary. He's very cute." Peterson winked at Mary, and Mary looked really pleased with herself. Then she focussed her attention on Nicolai again.

"What do they feed you at home? You're awfully big for your age."

"It isn't my diet. I just started growing two years early."

"I see. Say, you're Elena's son, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. You know my mother?"

"We work out together from time to time," Peterson offered by way of explanation. "And are you all right? I'm sure you've noticed there's blood on your chest."

"I'm all right. The blood isn't mine," Nicolai said softly. Ron found the troubled expression on the boy's face unsettling.

Peterson interrupted the conversation and strode over to another constable who had just arrived, and had been trying to get her attention. They conversed in hushed tones for a minute or two before Peterson returned. When she did, her expression was all business again.

"I'm sorry for the delay. Mary, what happened after Wendy came to get you and Nicolai in the kitchen?"

"She took us into the lounge. I think dad wanted to leave through the main entrance, like everyone else. When I was on my way to the entrance that nasty caliph grabbed me, and—" Mary's voice became rough, and she faltered for a moment.

Peterson looked concerned. "Honey, would you like to tell me about it somewhere else?"

Mary shook her head and wiped the tears off her face with her, smearing some make up. "No, here's fine," she said, putting on a brave face. Her tone was almost clinical when she continued. "He pulled me in his lap, and he touched my breasts and tried to touch my private parts."

Ron glanced at Matt, who was breathing through his nose very loudly. His fists were clenched, and he looked like he wanted to smash something.

"Nicolai tried to stop him, but one of the caliph's goons threw him to the floor. And then Daddy came and beat the goon up, and I think the caliph told the others to get my daddy because they all got up. Nicolai came back and freed me. Then everyone started fighting."

Ron noticed how Mary had omitted the fact that Nicolai attacked the caliph with a vengeance with his demonic claws, after pulling Mary out of the way.

"Mary, I've just been told that the caliph is fighting for his life at the House of Healing. Who attacked him?"

Mary began to sob uncontrollably. "P-Please, h-he was only p-protecting me!"

"It was me, ma'am," Nicolai said, though Ron could see that Peterson had already put two and two together.

"There's a chance the caliph won't survive."

"He got what he deserved," Nicolai said bitterly. "I can elaborate on that, though I don't wish to do so here. I'm not telling you how to do your job, but you can let Harry Potter and his guests go. They only jumped in to help Mr Kelly protect his daughter. Unless I'm mistaken, none of the injuries they inflicted on the caliph's entourage were life-threatening. The only reason they were injured in the first place was because they tried to interfere on the caliph's behalf."

"What about the damage to the club?" Peterson looked at Matt. "From your daughter's words, I deduced that you're the owner, but she never said so specifically."

"Your deduction was correct, ma'am."

"Who will cover the damages?"

"That depends on whether the caliph lives or dies," Matt growled. "I can't charge the bastard if he's dead, can I?" 

"You could charge the caliph's estate," Peterson suggested.

"I could. But this isn't about gold. I've got already of plenty of that."

Ron was thinking about the more distant future, and about the consequences it would have for Nicolai if the caliph didn't survive. He boldly stepped out the line-up. "Could I please have a word, privately?"

"In a moment," Peterson said. She gave her subordinates a nod. "Let Mr Potter and his guests go. Escort the other one to a private cell."

"You can't do that. The caliph's immunity extends to his entourage," a bookish-looking constable remarked.

"I know he can't be prosecuted. We're only holding him for questioning, and we'll continue to hold him until we get the order to let him go."

*

Harry couldn't help but feel responsible for Nicolai's predicament. He wished he'd been able to pull Nicolai off the caliph sooner, but the kid had done a lot of damage in the fifteen seconds it had taken Harry to reach him.

He had known that there was something odd about Nicolai, ever since getting a peek into his mind. His thoughts were extremely jumbled and hard to read. It was almost as if he was in a room full of broadcasting minds, and each mind seemed to work at the speed of light.

"Hey, Harry?" Ron called from the two-person bench he was reclining on. 

Harry stopped pacing. "What is it, Ron?"

"Your birthday. Congratulations, you're twenty-four."

Harry sighed. He'd forgotten that it was the thirty-first of July now. "Happy birthday to me," he muttered. "Bugger, I should've known that the caliph was bad news. I saw the look in his eyes when he leered at the women. Of all the women in the room, why did he have to grab Mary? I swear, I won't let Nicolai pay for doing the right thing."

The sounds of footsteps echoing on the marble floor made Harry turn away from the patterns in the marble. Commander Ironheart and a frantic-looking Elena were hurrying towards them.

Harry quickly rose to meet them. "Nicolai's washing up. Deputy Peterson's summoned a magistrate to validate the hearing."

"I sent someone to gather information at the House of Healing," Ironheart said. "The caliph will live. We don't have to worry about a murder charge. Still, attempted murder may be a possibility."

"But why would Nicolai do such a thing?" Elena wailed. "He hates violence."

That was bothering Harry too. The caliph had been trying to harm Mary, and Nicolai had wanted to prevent it. But surely someone as intelligent as Nicolai would have realised that the caliph's men would be no match for Wolfe and Harry. In fact, he was sure he could have taken those wizards by himself. And Wolfe wouldn't have needed Harry's help either. With the help of Ron, Gavin, Ramos and Larsson, and not to mention the Weasley brothers and Harry's Gryffindor mates, it had all been over in less than a minute. Even Aberforth had pitched in by shattering a vase over the head of one of the caliph's men.

"Maybe the idea of something happening to Mary set him off," Ron offered. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on here."

"That makes three of us," Ironheart said, glancing at Harry.

Harry sent a mental query to Ironheart to ask what he meant by that, and Ironheart replied that he wasn't certain, but that they'd soon find out.

Elena sat next to Ron on a bench and began to sob into his shoulder. Harry was mildly amused as Ron awkwardly patted her back. He could count the women Ron wouldn't feel awkward comforting on the fingers of one hand.

Fortunately for Ron, Wolfe arrived, no longer wearing the dress and make up. "The magistrate has arrived. Peterson's commandeered Chief Garibaldi's office to ensure maximum privacy."

Ironheart pried his daughter off Ron, and they set off for Garibaldi's office at a brisk pace. They went in and found Nicolai sitting on a stool, in the company of three women.

The magistrate—a tiny, middle-aged witch with curly blonde hair and a surprisingly child-like face—was setting up a recording device. Her cheeks were turning pink as she struggled with the tripod, and Harry thought she looked a lot like Goldilocks. She was the exact opposite of an authority figure. There was also another woman in the room. A band wrapped around her upper arm identified her as a Healer. Her expression was bland and clinical, and she had closely cropped cinnamon hair with many grey streaks. Harry knew her face from the _Concordian Chronicle_, and he'd also seen her in person a few times when she was in their neighbourhood, visiting her daughter, who happened to live in the house between Harry and Ron's. Her name was Octavia Aurelia, and she was one of the best Healers in the world, specialising in mental illnesses.

"Ah, Octavia Aurelia and Nicole Petit, what a pleasant surprise," Ironheart said, beaming at the two women, who promptly blushed, giggled and jostled for position to kiss him in greeting.

Peterson was mildly annoyed by this, and a thought along the lines of, 'So much for a couple of impartial experts' passed through her mind. Harry shook his head, and mentally added two more names to the notches on Ironheart's headboard.

"Octavia, what are you doing here?" Ironheart asked.

"I treated the caliph," the woman explained. "He looked like he'd been attacked by a wild animal, and I wanted to find out for myself what could have caused someone to attack him like that." 

"And it's just as well, because I needed an expert to determine Nicolai's state of mind," the tiny magistrate with the very suitable surname added.

Peterson cleared her throat. "You do realise that I should reconsider the expert and the magistrate, now that I've seen the degree of familiarity—"

"Oh, nonsense. Donovan and I were never romantically involved," Aurelia cut her off. However, Harry knew that she'd been more than interested. "And even if it were true, I wouldn't let it get in the way of my task. I doubt you'll find anyone with my skill in Concordia, and I assure you that my male colleagues won't wake up to do this job."

"The same goes for me on that last issue, and I _have_ known him for a very long time," Petit smiled. "He was a very naughty boy even when he was eleven!"

Harry quickly queried Ironheart on that, and he unabashedly replied that Petit was ten years his senior and that she had been his part-time minder from his eighth to his eleventh year of life. That surprised Harry, since the magistrate didn't look much older than Mrs Weasley. Though Ironheart hadn't explicitly presented the thought, Harry got the impression that Nicole Petit was the first witch he'd ever seduced. He glanced at Nicolai, suddenly realising that the quick dash to physical adulthood had to be a partial side effect of his demonic heritage.

"All right, let's get the show on the road," Peterson said, while she produced an enchanted quill and a stack of parchments. I'd like the rest of you to refrain from making any comments while Magistrate Petit interviews Nicolai. I want to keep the transcript as clean as possible."

Everyone consented, and Petit flicked her wand to start the recorder. Then she produced a typical vial of Veritaserum from a case, and showed it to everyone in the room. "Do you, Elena Ironheart, as Nicolai Savin's mother and legal guardian, agree to allow your son to be subjected to the influences of Veritaserum, in order to ensure the discovery of the complete truth?"

Elena nodded. "I agree."

Petit turned to Commander Ironheart and repeated the question, designating him as Nicolai's grandfather and second legal guardian, and Ironheart also consented. Then she turned to Nicolai. "Formally you can no longer object, though I choose to ask you as a courtesy. There are alternative ways of determining if you are telling the truth, like Legilimency."

Nicolai smiled faintly. "I doubt anyone would want to look into my mind like that. Veritaserum is fine." He opened his mouth and accepted three drops of the potion on his tongue, and Harry saw his face take on the trance-like expression that indicated that the potion had taken effect.

"Is your name Nicolai Savin?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the contents of the 2003 edition of the _International Magi-zoological Encyclopaedia_ by heart?"

"Yes."

Petit gave Ironheart an inquisitive look, but he just shrugged and smiled.

Harry and Ron exchanged knowing smirks.

"All right, let us continue. Nicolai, when you attacked the caliph, you did so to protect Mary?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you stop after you'd freed her? Why did you continue to attack him?"

The kid's face twisted itself into the hateful expression he had worn when transformed into the demon, and his eyes began to glow red once more. His voice deepened and became resonant, like a demon's. "Secundus Alpha remembered him from the third of August in 1996."

Petit frowned. "Who is Secundus Alpha?"

"The keeper of my memories," Nicolai said.

Aurelia jumped out of her seat and tapped Petit on the shoulder. Using gestures, she indicated that she wanted to take over the line of questioning.

"Let the record show that Octavia Aurelia is taking over the interview," Petit said, before she stepped aside.

"Nicolai, is Secundus Alpha another personality of yours?"

"In psychiatric terms, yes."

"You know about psychiatry?" Aurelia asked enthusiastically. She was growing more exited by the minute. "How did you learn? _Why_ did you learn?"

"I understand, yes. Secundus Omicron is knowledgeable on the subject. I created him in an effort to understand the creation of the collective. I learnt about the subject from the literature at the library."

"Why did you create these minds?"

"I had to organise my mind to avoid insanity. My intelligence goes beyond the human norm. I would have been gifted under normal circumstances, but my ability was amplified through experiments conducted by Ivan Savin."

"Your grandfather?"

"He is my biological ancestor, yes," Nicolai growled.

"You were talking about experiments. What kind of experiments?"

"Experiments to increase my mental capabilities. In my first year of life, Ivan separated me from my parents without their knowledge on several occasions to conduct these experiments. Through his efforts, the neurones in my brain did not decrease with age, as is the case in normal cerebral development. As a result, I am able to retain information nearly flawlessly and store it as long-term memory without the need for repetition and training. I can merely recall it at will. I'm able to understand any subject I come across, and I can perform calculations and mnemonic feats that go beyond the capability of normal people. However, the human brain cannot cope with that without some dramatic changes in the way it functions. I had to divide my mind and make it more efficient." He paused, seeming unsure. "I don't know how to simplify this enough for you to understand."

"There's no need," Aurelia said. "So to summarise your explanation, you split yourself up into several personalities out of necessity."

"There was another event that also influenced the process. Disassociation due to traumatic experiences. Ivan was grooming me to be his successor. He forced me to watch while he tortured his enemies, aiming to desensitise me and prevent me from feeling emotions that would impair my decision-making capacity as the future leader of his organisation. Secundus Alpha kept most of those memories away."

"Was one of those memories from the third of August in 1996?"

"Yes. The caliph was still a sultan at that time. He had dealings with Ivan. Mostly about illegal goods, but also slavery. Ivan sold young girls to him on a regular basis."

"About Mary's age?"

"Yes. One of the girls defied him, and he cut parts of her body one by one in front of the other girls, to make an example out of her. He shared Ivan's fascination with torture."

Aurelia turned tack. "You were very young. How do you remember all of this? How do you know the specifics of the experiments Ivan conducted?"

"I could read when I was nearly two. I read Ivan's notes. I couldn't understand them at the time, but they remained stored away in my memory until I gained the knowledge to understand them. I can recall things more vividly than anyone can. This vividness allowed me to identify the caliph."

"The caliph is well known, and you clearly knew of him before seeing him tonight. Why didn't you make the connection before?"

"Secundus Alpha protected me. But when Mary was in danger, Tertius Epsilon convinced him to merge with me and allow me access to the memory anyway, for Mary's sake."

"Wait, your personalities are aware of each other?"

"Yes."

"And more of them can share the spotlight at once?"

"No. They don't enter the spotlight of consciousness. They merge with me. They can only gain a semblance of consciousness through me."

"That's very unusual."

"Yes."

Aurelia paused to allow everything to sink in, before she continued. "What does Tertius Epsilon do?"

"He protects Mary."

"My daughter lives across the street from the Kellys, and she told me that Mary hasn't lived in Concordia for very long. Tertius Epsilon must be young."

"Yes. He was created to allow me to overcome my fear of water and rescue Mary from drowning."

"Did he try to kill the caliph?"

"No, that was me. I wanted to prevent him from ever hurting anyone again. Despite the degree of organisation in my mind, I was so angry that couldn't think straight."

"Would you try to kill him again, if you ever ran into him?"

"No," Nicolai replied immediately.

"Why not?"

"The consequences would separate me from Mary. The pain that would cause her outweighs any satisfaction I would gain from the caliph's death."

"That's all I need to know," Aurelia said, stepping back and yielding the interview to Petit again.

"His answers also cover everything I needed to know. Aurelia, as the expert, would you concur with my assessment if I said that this is a clear case of a state of temporarily diminished sanity?"

"Of course. Furthermore, I believe Nicolai's accusations to be true."

"That's because you wouldn't be directly affected if the caliph's secret affairs came to light," Ironheart said. "Those who _would_ be affected, especially financially, would rather believe that Nicolai is insane and that he has mistaken the caliph for someone else."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Unfortunately they'd been confronted with the same sad fact in their youth.

"Nicolai is still facing charges of attempted murder in the second degree," Ironheart continued. "As things stand now, he'll be locked away in a mental hospital. The only way Nicolai will get off the hook is if we prove beyond all doubt that the caliph is indeed dirty. I had no idea he was, so he must have hid it really well. It won't be easy to get that information, but the man with the evidence owes me a favour." He turned to Ron. "I'm afraid you won't be able to spend time with your relatives today. I want some alternatives to work with, in case the man who owes me is reluctant. We're going up against a government icon again." Then he addressed Aurelia and Petit. "I'll assign Rangers to watch over you. I may have to reveal Nicolai's testimony, and if I do, your involvement will not be received well by the caliph. Your lives will be in danger."

"Sir, I know that these situations are part of my job description, but my mum will kill me if I'm not at Ginny's wedding," Ron said.

"Don't worry. You're allowed to take a break to perform your duties at the ceremony."

"Should Harry and I go and persuade people to step forward and reveal the caliph's double life?" Wolfe asked.

Ironheart shook his head. "No, at least, not until after the wedding. I have twenty men in the Martial Division who are itching for a fight. They can do the job without you." He locked his gaze with Harry's. "I know you want to help, but I can't let you put such a monumental event in your life on hold over this. You may have to postpone your honeymoon, but you _will_ get married tomorrow."

***

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Kalen: I'm sorry, but I've failed to understand the relevance of your comment. Were you saying that you thought Nicolai did what he did out of some sort of jealousy? If so, you need to read more carefully, because you'd be the only one who didn't understand the caliphs' lewd intentions. 

If not, could you explain what you _were_ trying to say?

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aznanarchy: Updates occur with regular intervals.

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The Keymaker: And your review is appreciated, as always.

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Angie: The sequel will take place after Union, so I won't be giving anything away.

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Athena McGonagall: Tell you when and why Ironheart changed, leaving you with no mysteries to wonder about? No way! ;-)

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Gogirl: ???? What are you talking about? They _didn't_ let Mary dance in a nightclub. And she's eleven, not fifteen. (though my descriptions _do_ say that she _looks_ fifteen)

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Foxfur: Who says Ironheart didn't try to comfort Molly when George died? Maybe he didn't do it because his wife and Commander Nomvete had been keeping a close eye on him at that point in time. :-)

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limar: You're the only reviewer who expressed concern that Ginny would be outliving Harry by many years! Harry's _does_ have Draconian blood (as wizards with pureblood ancestors do, in my little A/U) but it's too diluted to make much of a difference, like it does in the Dumbledores. And his powers for the pendant do not include longevity. 

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LadySiri: Nicolai was pretty cool in chapter 7, wasn't he? What did you think of my little explanation in this chapter.

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nycgal: Any comments are appreciated.

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OHGinnyfan: No. I haven't referred to Ironheart's transformation before.

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Cosmos Rose: That's exactly what I want you to wonder. :-)

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Anon: I'm sorry you didn't actually get to see Nicolai rip him up.

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Ginny1946: I had to visualise Wolfe in a dress. Not pretty!

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mentosadidasgirl17: I'll check it out.

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Fragarach: Did he kick enough of it?

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Lioness-07863: Unexpected twist, eh?

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Angel of the Flames: No. I'm going to keep the fics centred on the main characters. If I write Mary and Nicolai fics I might as well start writing original stories. (which I intend to do, as soon as I've got a good idea)

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Chloe Black: The wedding will happen soon.


	9. Chapter IX

Chapter 9

"How's the sunburn?" Wolfe asked, while he and Harry strolled towards the location of the reception. Up until the previous year, it had been an obsolete farmstead that had fallen into disrepair and abandoned. Matt had purchased it and fixed it up, although Harry didn't know why.

"I didn't get any. That lotion Galatea gave me really helped."

"It's very effective. With skin like Galatea's, it has to be."

Harry looked at the recently restored farmstead that was drawing closer with each step they took. "What do you reckon Matt wants to do with that farmstead?"

"He wants to cultivate herbs on a large scale for export. So far, the only herbs produced in Concordia are to satisfy local demand. But Concordia has some very favourable trade agreements with several wizarding nations that they're not taking advantage of due to the lack of export goods. He intends to change that."

"Matt won't admit this, but he's very much his father's son. He's got a keen nose for business opportunities. What he did with the Lovely Lady Lounge, for example…"

Wolfe shot Harry a sly look. "I take it you had fun?"

"Before, or _during_ the fight?"

Wolfe sniggered for a moment, and then answered. "Before."

Harry shrugged. "The employees were easy on the eyes, the service was good…"

"Did Ginny give you a hard time about being waited on by flirtatious part-Veela women?"

"Not really."

"Then you're lucky. Galatea wasn't really happy about it."

Harry frowned. "Why would she feel threatened? Those girls were pretty, but most of them were one-eighth Veela or less. She has no reason to feel threatened."

"I think it's the baby blues. I'll ask Hermione about it."

"Is she already at the farmstead?" Harry asked. Wolfe had a telepathic link with his copies, but while Harry could tap into Wolfe's thoughts, he couldn't extend his link with Wolfe to the duplicates.

Wolfe nodded. "She and Montoya have just checked the cakes for poison. They're putting them in the storeroom now. Doc and Bert are setting up the security to keep everyone away. I'll take first watch, until Faust sends some guys to take over in a few hours."

"What about the rest of the food?"

Closing his eyes and concentrating, Wolfe fell silent for a moment and slowed his pace. "Most of it is being prepared now. Don't worry about it. Nothing will go wrong."

"I suppose we could let the people who invited themselves dig in first," Harry suggested. "To be on the safe side."

Wolfe smiled broadly. "Not a bad idea."

"Max, Harry, I could use a little help with supervising the decorating efforts!" Hermione called, poking her head through an aperture in the gate that led to the manor's courtyard. The gate swung open completely to reveal the frantic activities inside. The frame for a large tent was magically assembling itself over the courtyard, and a dozen witches were busy decorating the manor's inner walls with floral arrangements.

Several festive-looking coloured banners danced in the gentle breeze. They were attached to a flagpole that jutted out of the second floor wall of what was once the master's house, which was located opposite the courtyard gate. The rest of the building was a one-storey structure. The eastern wing comprised the former quarters of the labourers and their families. The western wing used to provide space for the storage and packing of goods produced by the farm. Interestingly enough, the manor also had a brew house adjacent to the gate, which explained the oasts Harry had seen beyond the farmstead's vegetable and herb gardens, next to the barn. On the other side of the gate, there was a storehouse that still held a cart and farm tools. The small stable meant for the master's best mount stood empty.

"Why did Matt go through all that trouble of expanding his house in the city when he's got so much living space down here?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Moving here was the original idea. But Gudrun's a city dweller, and she put her foot down. That's why Matt decided to use it for commercial purposes." Wolfe smiled. "I don't think Gudrun's out of the woods yet, though. Matt also has his eye on the other abandoned farmstead out by Nomad Island's outskirts."

"Thank goodness you two are here," Hermione began. She lowered her voice before she continued. "I need more eyes to watch over the proceedings."

"Everyone here is clean," Wolfe said. "I already told you that—at least—one of my copies did. But if it makes you feel any better, I think I can create one more."

"If you're sure that everyone's all right…"

"The people who are here at the moment are okay." Wolfe grabbed Hermione, twirled her around and began to gently massage the area between her neck and her shoulders. "Relax, sis. You're far too tense. Doc and Bert will lend their eyes when they're done setting up the wards around the cakes."

"I want this to go smoothly—oh, a little lower," Hermione purred. 

"Don't enjoy it too much, Hermione. Ron will get jealous," Harry teased. 

Hermione opened her half-closed eyes fully and shot Harry a mournful look. "He hasn't been around to give me any backrubs since Commander Ironheart commandeered him away from me."

"It's only been a day."

"Poor baby," Wolfe said quasi-sympathetically, as he switched to light chops with the sides of his hand.

Hermione pouted. "I don't want your pity, I want my husband."

"I'll let you know as soon as I've heard something. But I haven't heard anything."

Heaving a sigh of resignation, Hermione turned to Harry. "Did you give some thought to your vows?"

Harry grimaced. He and Ginny had agreed to make at least part of their vows something unique. However, he was coming up short in the inspiration department. This was a problem, because the wedding was only hours away. Ginny and Heidi were already preparing themselves in the bridal tent. "I don't suppose you could help me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, it has to be something personal which reflects the way you feel about her. I can't interfere. I'm sorry, but this time I don't have any notes for you to copy from. As you well know, Ron and I used more traditional vows."

Harry wished he'd done the same.

"Pick a secluded spot with a nice view," Wolfe suggested. I saw a large sugar maple in the pasture. Maybe a field full of wildflowers will inspire you a bit. We can handle the preparation without you. Just be sure to change in time for the wedding."

Harry was willing to give it a try. He turned and walked down the narrow road that led to and from the farmstead for a bit. At his leisurely pace, it took him about twenty minutes to get to the point where he had to leave the road and enter the pasture. He headed straight towards the large shade tree.

A heart-shaped carving immediately drew his attention. The carving looked recent, and the initials, NS and MK, each occupying one-half of the heart, gave Harry some idea as to who had made that carving.

He drew his wand and transfigured a few boulders at the base of the trunk into pillows. He arranged them in a comfortable heap before he reclined against the tree. Divination had taught him that this type of meditation wasn't the optimal way for him to get ideas. He never got the chance to begin his contemplation however, for the wind carried the faint sound of a singing voice to his spot.

An old wizard, clad in grey, was sitting on a wagon drawn by an Aethonan—a chestnut-coloured winged horse common in Britain—that was passing by on the road, headed towards the farmstead. While Wolfe had got the enhanced hearing, sense of smell, taste, and touch from the pendants, Harry had inherited enhanced eyesight. It allowed him to discern details on the cart as if he were looking through Omnioculars that could penetrate through the sides of the cart and see what was inside. There were bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red 'A' and a familiar-looking Draconian rune.

That was Aberforth's mark, of course, and the old man was Aberforth Dumbledore, whose fame in Concordia was due mainly to his skill with fires, smokes and lights. His real business was far more difficult and dangerous, but the Concordian folk knew nothing about it.

Harry rolled onto his feet and skirted close over the grassy pastures, attempting to intercept the cart. As he flew closer, he heard the song.

__

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door when it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow it if I can…

Harry intercepted the cart easily, and came to a hovering stop in front of it. He crossed his arms. "You're late."

Aberforth puffed on a long pipe before he answered. "I am never late, Harry Potter. Nor am I early. I arrive exactly when I mean to."

Harry laughed. "I'm sure Hermione will disagree."

"I imagine she will. I had a bit of trouble coaxing Hasufel out of his stable this morning."

Harry smiled. Aberforth had constructed a hut at the base of the Citadel's hill. The newly-built stable for the spoiled Aethonan was in many ways more luxurious than Aberforth's hut.

Aberforth pointed to the unoccupied front corner of the cart, and Harry gently descended, coming to rest on the designated spot. Then Aberforth whistled, and the horse resumed its course with a relaxed gait.

"Any news about Nicolai's situation?"

"Good news, as a matter of fact. It has been resolved."

"Ivan the Impaler actually told Ironheart what he wanted to know?"

Aberforth nodded. "He was more than happy to."

"Why?"

"Oh, not out of concern for his grandson's well-being, if that's what you thought I was implying. No, it seems that Ivan discovered that the caliph's been taking his business elsewhere, lately. He was about to blackmail the caliph anyway, when Donovan turned up." 

Harry was glad that the resolution had come so easily. Nicolai had a bright future ahead of him, and it would have been a shame to see that go to waste. "So what's going to happen to the caliph?"

"He'll be stripped of his title and power sometime tomorrow, and a new caliph will be chosen among the sultans. And to avoid another such debacle, the magical ministries of the countries belonging to the Desert Federation will also insist on better screening and monitoring of their nobility's activities."

Another thing Harry was grateful for. Perhaps it would curb their behaviour in the future.

In front of the cart, Charlie Jr and Arthur Weasley darted out of the cornfield opposite the pasture. "Aberforth, Aberforth's here!" Arthur called.

Millie, Susie, Fred and Amelie soon appeared from between the cornstalks and began to follow the cart.

"Fireworks, Aberforth … Aberforth! Aberforth, fireworks," the children chattered, hoping to catch an early show.

Aberforth whistled again and the horse began a quick trot, outdistancing the children.

"Awww," the children chorused, voicing their disappointment.

However, Aberforth had surreptitiously drawn his wand and aimed it at the hindmost box. It flipped open, and some of the fireworks inside jumped off the cart and went off, giving a colourful show of sparkly light and small explosions.

"Yaaaay!" the children jumped up and down and cheered.

Aberforth let out a hearty laugh.

Harry grinned. "Couldn't resist indulging the kids, could you?"

"There's nothing as precious as children's laughter."

Looking at the enraptured faces of the laughing children, Harry couldn't disagree.

"So, my boy, how are you coping with the butterflies in your stomach?"

Harry's stomach had been quite calm, but Aberforth's reminder rekindled his nerves. "I was supposed to come up with some special vows. I don't know what I'm going to say."

"What about the first time you saw her?"

"I didn't really notice her the first time I saw her, Ab—"

"Yet as time went by, I realised that there was more to her than meets the eye," Aberforth sang. "How is that for an opening sentence? It rhymes too."

The old wizard's suggestion triggered an idea in Harry's mind. "That's not a bad foundation to build on. Thanks!" he said, taking to the air. He put on a burst of speed and headed back towards the city to write it down.

*

"We have to do something about those smudges under your eyes," Hermione said, while she rummaged through her bathroom cupboard.

Ron had only been able to get three hours' worth of sleep, after having been awake for more than twenty-four. Not that he'd have been able to get any sleep before he'd been certain that Nicolai was indeed off the hook.

Hermione twisted open a jar and scooped a handful of cream on her fingers. She proceeded to rub it under his eyes. "It won't help you to stay awake, but at least it'll remove those smudges. Leave it on for about five minutes before rinsing it off."

"All right," Ron sighed.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Not to worry, love. I've already had three cups of coffee. Besides, my little sister is getting married. Not exactly the most boring event in my life." He frowned, wondering what he was going to wear. It had never occurred to him before now. In Concordia, the native dress resembled medieval European clothing. However, it was also a melting pot of various ethnic styles worn by the human immigrants who had come in from all over the world, and then there was the riotous mix of fashion favoured by the goblins, dwarves and elves. "What're you wearing, anyway?"

"I'm going native, though I'll be wearing a ceremonial robe over my dress in my function as the Keeper of the North."

Ron blinked. "You bought a dress?"

Hermione smiled. "All the Mrs Weasleys bought a dress. The shops were open until late, so we went shopping for dresses after the family get-together."

"Mum too?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Don't act so shocked. Your mother has worn dresses before."

"Not formal ones," Ron countered.

"Ron, we don't have time for this!" Hermione huffed.

"Why is it that every time I'm right, all of a sudden you don't have time to continue the discussion?"

"I need to be in the forest well before the ceremony begins, to help prepare the forest clearing and create the consecrated circle. I don't have much time left," Hermione said, drying her hair off.

Ron smirked. "Just admit that I'm right."

"Fine, little boy. You're right."

"Thank you," Ron said, while he slipped off his pyjama trousers. "And what am _I_ supposed to wear?"

"Your dress uniform."

"Bloody hell, I forgot—"

"I had it cleaned, Ron," Hermione assured him.

Ron smiled. Hermione's ability to anticipate him never failed to surprise him. "Thanks, love."

"What _would_ you do without me?"

Ron stepped up to her and engulfed her in a hug. "Not something I want to think about. Right now I'm thinking about something I'd like to do _with_ you. Why don't you get out of that towel and take another shower with me, hmm?"

Hermione stepped back and began to tug at the towel slowly, only to cease her effort at the last moment. "Sorry, no time." She grinned wickedly and darted into their bedroom. 

Ron groaned. "That was cruel," he called after her. 

He waited for a few more minutes for Hermione's facial crème to take effect before he stepped in the shower stall. The shower was brief but thorough, and when he was done, he found his dress uniform waiting on the bed, along with his knee-high socks and black velvet briefs. Ron smiled, guessing that Hermione was planning to re-enact their own wedding night. The gold pocket watch Hermione had given him for their first anniversary glinted on top of the pile of clothes, and Ron saw a black hair-band wrapped around it, indicating that Hermione wanted him to tie his hair back so that the tail rested at the nape of his neck. His recently shined boots stood at the foot of the bed.

Ron put on his underwear and headed to the bathroom to shave. When his face was as smooth as a baby's bottom, he donned his uniform. Then he brushed his hair, gathered it at the base of the hairline at the back of his head and tied the black elastic band around it. He tidied up the bathroom and unlocked the door that led to the hallway, so his mum could bathe the older half of Angelina's brood, while Jasmine bathed the younger children. Angelina had already left for the ceremonial site.

Ron headed back into the bedroom to give himself a last once-over in the full-length mirror. As he crossed the doorway into the bedroom, he was suddenly very grateful that Hermione had managed to convince him not to put their bedroom in the attic, like it had been in their former home. The interconnecting door made going to the loo in the middle of the night much easier.

He posed in front of the mirror and tugged the medieval style high-collared long-shirt straight. He slid his wand's holster a little more to the side, and removed a black thread that had been obscuring his rank insignia. The two silver pips showed that he was a Ranger Sixth Class. Though he had attained the rank only eighteen months ago, Captain Kovalenko had informed him that he was already being evaluated for promotion, and that the results would be known in about three months. If the outcome turned out positive, he'd be promoted fifteen months earlier than the average time it took a Ranger to ascend from the sixth to the fifth class.

With a start, he realised that he'd outrank Hermione, who was ascending the rank ladder at the regular pace even though she was Captain Sharif's star pupil. It was also common knowledge that the Rangers in the Medical Division didn't ascend in rank as quickly as those in the Martial Division, as well as the field operatives of the Intelligence Division. They simply didn't get quite as many opportunities to show initiative, innovative tactics, and strategies. Another factor was that there were only two officers' spots in the Medical, Artificer, Administrative and Diplomatic Divisions, as opposed to the large Intelligence and Martial Divisions, which had three lieutenants and a captain, totalling _four_ officers.

Ron smoothed a crease in his black breeches and straightened the folds of his knee-length fold-over boots so that the folds were equally wide. Then he looked at the overall picture, and was satisfied with the image. He liked the Rangers' dress uniform. The black cloth and silver trimmings were neutral to every complexion and hair colour. 

"Looking sharp!" the mirror complimented. "You forgot to tie the laces of your boots, though."

Ron looked down, only to remember belatedly that his boots didn't have laces.

"Hah, made you look," the mirror crowed. Ron chuckled. The mirror had been a wedding present from Lee and Alicia. George had been developing it before he died, and the mirror clearly channelled its creator. It always commented on someone's looks with good humour, though at times it could be a tad annoying, often making lewd comments to Hermione when she passed before it in her underwear, lingerie, or her birthday suit. Hermione retaliated by teasing the mirror much like she had teased Ron, earlier.

Ron heard the front door downstairs open, and a cacophony of voices echoed up the stairs. He left his bedroom and skipped down the stairs, drawing gasps from Jasmine, his mum, and Millie and Susie as they beheld him in his dress uniform.

"Oh Ron, you look so handsome," his mum said proudly. "Now if you'd only let me trim your hair—"

"Out of the question, Mum," Ron said firmly. He'd decided to wear his hair long—while he still could—before it began to thin, like Bill's and Percy's. Since he too favoured his father with regards to his build, he believed that possibility to be more than likely.

Jasmine smiled. "Really, Mum, I remember you showing me those pictures of Dad in his youth. He briefly wore his hair long too, and as I recall, you liked it."

"Those were different times," Molly protested, though her feeble tone told Ron that she realised she could never win the argument.

Ron leaned down and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Rest assured that I'll stop by The Burrow for a trimming when it doesn't look good on me anymore. See you at the ceremony."

*

Chiron, the chieftain of Nomad Island's centaur community, had met the preparation party at the edge of the 'known' forest. The other denizens of Nomad Island weren't allowed to go any deeper into the forest. If they did, the centaurs would escort them back out. The centaurs didn't technically _own_ that part of the forest, since they detested the concept of ownership as humans knew it. But they _were_ fiercely protective of their inner sanctum.

Upon arriving at the site, Brother Francis, who was member of a wizarding monastic order and had also married Ron and Hermione, as well as Ron and Ginny's parents, opened the large chest that had been floating behind him. He took out a few dozen surveyor pickets and colourful rolls of tape, and put Wolfe and Harry to work staking out what was to be the periphery of the outer circle. They used a radius line to make sure that it was indeed circular, and that it was centred upon the location of the high altar. The radius line had been enchanted to work by itself, so Harry and Wolfe only had to follow it around and drive a picket into the ground where it stopped. Because of Wolfe's handy multiplication ability, the task was quickly finished.

Then the friar lifted four miniature altars out of the chest and handed them to Angelina, Fleur, Hannah and Hermione, instructing them to place each altar in its canonical quarter of the working space. Tapping the altars three times with a wand reverted them to their normal size.

Hermione received a bowl and a small sack of blessed soil, and set both on her altar. Looking at Hannah's altar, she saw a large open shell and a pitcher of water. Fleur's altar held a large red candle. Angelina's had a censer and a fan.

Brother Francis unloaded the last necessary items from the chest, before tapping it with his wand while muttering an incantation. The chest transformed into the high altar, which he placed at the very centre of the circle. With practised ease, he threw an embroidered white altar cloth over it, and proceeded to arrange the necessary items on it.

"Right then," the elderly friar began, after everything was in place. "I'd like to discuss a few things before the prayer. Hermione, could you please let the photographer know not to enter the inner circle?"

"They've done this sort of work before, so I assume they already know."

"Perhaps, but I'd also like to ask that the photographers don't use their flashes. We've excellent light conditions anyway, and constant flashes would be highly distracting to me, and perhaps Harry and Ginny as well."

"I'll tell them."

"Excellent." Father Francis nodded. Then he turned to Wolfe. "Does the Guardian have the rings and the ribbons?"

Wolfe, who was once again a single entity, nodded.

"Does everyone remember their lines?"

"Yes, Brother Francis," everyone chorused.

"Harry, your special vows?"

"Memorised, Brother Francis," Harry replied confidently.

"Are you certain? I've married many couples, and I've found that nerves and poor memory can turn an eloquent speech into an embarrassing bout of stuttering."

"I have a thought to associate every sentence with."

Wolfe smirked. "I'll hold up a cheat-sheet for you to read, if you want."

"Your confidence warms my heart," Harry replied, somewhat sardonically.

Brother Francis laughed. "Well, I must commend you on your calmness. Most grooms and Guardians would be nervous wrecks at this point."

"A result of our occupational hazards, I'm afraid. If you stare death in the face every so often, you develop a certain control over your nerves," Wolfe said.

"That, and the fact that the people in the Martial Division are slightly insane and thrive on staring death in the face," Hermione said.

"Facing death with a smile," Harry and Wolfe said simultaneously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "See what I mean?"

The rotund friar nodded solemnly. "Yes, and I thank the Maker for the existence of such men. They delivered three of my fellow friars from corruption, in Laketown." He turned to Harry and Wolfe. "Tell me, have you two ever reformed that luminous being who defeated the avatar of evil?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. The talismans that made it possible were destroyed along with the destruction of the evil stone," Wolfe said.

"But you and 'Arry can still do many fantastic things. Are you sure that the power to unite into a single being is gone? Maybe it is inside you, like your ability to multiply yourself, and 'Arry's gift of flight," Fleur said.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure _how_ I know this, but I _know_ that the physical union of the talismans was a prerequisite to form Phoenix. Now that they're destroyed, it's no longer possible."

"Phoenix is what the entity called itself," Hermione explained quickly, seeing the nonplussed expression upon the mention of that name.

"Another factor is that Korumu's stone was destroyed. The ability to form Phoenix was a part of Novoridu's talismans for the specific purpose of creating a being powerful enough to stand up to anyone drawing on the evil power of Korumu's stone. The evil stone was directly linked to the good talismans, and once the stone was gone, there was no longer a need for the talismans." Wolfe said.

"The universal truth," Brother Francis said. "Without evil there is no good, however nice such an arrangement would be. But come, let us not ponder this any longer."

He walked to the high altar, ignited the contents of the censer, and lit the lamp that symbolised Providence. Then, he returned, and taking Fleur and Angelina's hands, he gestured for the rest of them to join hands in prayer.

"Great Maker," he began. "You have made the bond of marriage a holy mystery, a symbol of Your love for us. Hear our prayers for Harry and Ginny. With abiding faith in You, and continuing faith in each other, they will pledge their love today. May their lives bear witness to the reality of that love. We make this prayer in the name of all that is. So mote it be."

Brother Francis let go of Angelina and Fleur's hands, signalling that the prayer was over.

"I must do the rest of the consecration by myself, so you lot can go about any business you may have. When the Summoner—Ron, I believe—announces the imminent start of the ceremony—"

"The six of us have to hurry back to beat the crowd here. We got that part," Wolfe said.

"Just making sure," Brother Francis said. "Hermione, don't forget the photographers."

Hermione was a bit annoyed by the constant reminders, but she knew that Brother Francis' cautions were born from experience. "I won't."

***

****

A/N: I know, I know, major Gandalf and LOTR channelling in this chapter. ;-)


	10. Chapter X

Chapter 10

"I've been told that the United States and Canada already share several leagues with Muggle sports," Wood was saying.

There was nothing like Quidditch talk to kill time while waiting fir the start of the ceremony. Ron had read that there would be a historic merger between the United States' and Canadian Quidditch Leagues the following season. Apparently, Wood had been offered the position as first Keeper in the Moose-Jaw Meteorites team for a period of at least two seasons, with options to extend the contract if the new North American League title was won within those two years.

"And if some crazy American wizard is willing to pay me nearly three times as much as I'm earning with the Magpies right now, why not do it? I mean, I have five children to think about."

"I read about the merger," Ron said. "Several European, South American and African star-players have been contracted to strengthen the league, right? But is it cost effective to do so?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't know much about these things. But I _do_ know that it's a five-year government-sanctioned project. The Ministries of the Unites States and Canada are partially subsidising it. They hope to create a stronger league that in turn will refine the native players and thus lead to stronger national squads that are able to penetrate to the finals or the semi-finals in the next couple of World Cups." Wood frowned. "I'm surprised that no one in Britain or the mainland cried foul over that."

Matt shrugged. "Perhaps they're confident that their domestic talent can make up for your departure, or maybe the obscene profits they've made have led them to believe it was worth it. I mean, you don't believe that the Magpies actually let you go without any compensation?"

"Now that you mention it, the Magpies' management didn't put up much of a fight when I brought up the subject. I can't believe all of that happened behind my back."

"Could be that it didn't happen. I was just speculating. Anyway, I'm fairly certain that, legally, that matter has been put to rest before they even announced the merging of the leagues, in case someone _would _cry foul. And I think I know how their teams might earn back their investments," Matt told Wood. "The sponsorship-endorsement relationship is great way to get revenues, and I know for a fact that it's widely used in the United States' Quidditch and Quodpot Leagues. Teams endorse certain products, and in return receive compensation from the firms and companies whose products they endorse."

"We have that in Britain," Wood said.

"I know you do, but to a much lesser extent," Matt said. "In the Unites States, Canada, and even Australia, the names of the broomsticks and equipment they use are clearly visible, and the names of non Quidditch-related products on boards along the sides of the Quidditch pitch. In Australia and New Zealand, the main sponsor's name is even printed on the robes."

"You mean advertising? But in Britain they advertise too," Ron said.

"Except for the teams' robes. Those are sacred," Wood said. "You'll only see a team's emblem on the uniforms."

Matt continued. "And whereas the advertising revenues in Britain go to the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports, in North America and Australia, the teams get a sizeable cut. They get a substantial amount of revenues that way, so I'm guessing that that crazy American you're talking about isn't all that crazy. You're the Keeper of the English national team. He'll use your fame to squeeze more gold out of the companies your team endorses. I think the extra revenues easily cover the extra salary he has to pay you. And if you play your cards right, Wood, you might get some personal sponsors. Make sure to include that clause when your contract is drafted. If they want you _that_ badly, it won't be contested."

"D'you think so?" Wood asked uncertainly.

"Well, your demands can't be _too_ outrageous, and your personal deals can't conflict with the team's deals, but I'm sure there is room to negotiate. It's a seller's market, and a Keeper of your skill is in high demand."

"What do you mean by personal deals not conflicting with the team's?"

"Broomsticks, for example. Many teams have contracts with broomstick manufacturers, and they exclusively use brooms from those manufacturers. If they have a contract with the Cleansweep Broom Company, you can't endorse the new Nimbus 2700."

"That doesn't really give Wood much space, does it?" Ron said. "Professional Quidditch teams always have contracts regarding Quidditch gear as well."

"One doesn't have to stick to Quidditch-related products. He could endorse certain clothiers, like that nancy-boy Chaser for the Quiberion Quafflepunchers, Donadieu, does. If you're enough of a role model, everyone with something to sell will want you to endorse their product."

"Like Harry," Ron said, suddenly remembering that Harry had a similar agreement with the Firebolt's manufacturers. Of course, that income went straight to charity.

"What about Harry?" Wood asked.

"He endorses Firebolt Mk II's here in Concordia, and gets a small fee for it. It's automatically transferred to a vault that periodically sends funds to charitable causes."

"Really?"

"Yeah, though I'll have to remind him to fly _with_ a broom from time to time, or they'll dissolve the deal,"Ron said. Then his gaze fell a small crowd of guests, and the woman on Neville's arm. At first Ron was a bit confused, wondering if Neville had divorced his wife. But upon closer examination, he saw the similarities and realised that it was Eloise herself. She caught Ron's gaze, and smiled.

"If I had a Galleon for every time my acquaintances have given me that look these past few months, I'd be able to afford an early retirement."

Her nose had been centred on her face and shrunk and her chin was less pointy than it used to be. "Eloise . you look good!"

"Thanks to Justin Finch-Fletchley," Eloise replied, beaming. "After becoming a Healer, he started a practice that specialises in permanent body reconstruction. At first I was a bit sceptical, but when I saw how he fixed Millicent Bulstrode, I was sold."

"Yeah . Millicent," Neville grinned. "Now people can actually look at her face without flinching."

"I've always wondered when this idea would finally take root in the wizarding world," Matt said. "In the Muggle world, it's big business. Speaking of which, we should talk about your plans for that wine. You must have noticed that Concordia's climate is ideal for vineyards, and I happen to own a sizeable patch of land outside the city. Are you aware that Concordia's treaties would allow you to bring locally produced wine to foreign markets at a very competitive price-"

"Really, husband of mine, at times I think you should become a businessman," Gudrun said as she approached, flanked by Parvati and Padma. While the twins had been nearly identical in the past, Parvati's four pregnancies had left their mark. It hadn't been as noticeable when they'd run into them during the quest to clothe the blow-up doll at Harry's bachelor party, since both had been covered by summer cloaks. Now, however, the Patil twins were draped in saris, and Parvati had clearly avoided keeping her midriff bare like Padma had.

"If I were to become a businessman, I'd slack off on my exercise, and you wouldn't have a husband with the body of a Greek god anymore," Matt replied, sliding his arm around Gudrun as she strolled into reach.

"That wouldn't be a problem," Gudrun said sweetly. "I'd just find myself a boy toy to cheat on you with."

"My love, your callous words hurt me so."

Parvati and Padma giggled.

"Sweetheart, meet Neville Longbottom and his wife, Eloise."

"How do you do?" Gudrun said, shaking their hands.

"Is our younger offspring taken care off?" Matt asked.

"Serafina's babysitting Rachel, and the other children under four. The older ones are allowed to attend the ceremony."

"Why didn't you bring your children, Parvati?" Ron asked.

"You have no idea how much of a hassle it is to travel with five small children, do you?" Parvati sighed.

"Both sets of grandparents wanted to spend quality time with their grandchildren. Parvati and I will be staying here a few more days to unwind."

"Ah, the participants of the ceremony are here." Gudrun nodded to the forest, where Wolfe, Harry, Hermione, and the others appeared, following an old centaur out of the forest. Behind them, seven more centaurs appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Ron strode over to meet Harry and Wolfe, who had stopped closer to the edge of the more private part of the forest.

"Is everything set?"

"Brother Francis is finishing the consecration rituals," Harry said. "Keep an eye on your watch. You need to announce the beginning of the ceremony at four o'clock."

Ron smiled. Harry was beginning to get nervous. He kept looking at the bridal tent, where Ginny and Heidi were putting the final touches on their preparations. "Easy, Harry. Everything will be fine." He fished his watch out of his pocket and checked it. Seventeen minutes to four. "It won't be long now. C'mon, let's go say hello to some of the guests some more."

Sixteen minutes later, Ron could happily conclude that greeting the guests had taken Harry's mind off the imminent ceremony. He'd been very pleased to see Professor McGonagall again, and he was laughing merrily at something Professor Lupin had said. The time had come at last. Ron extracted the Summoner's bell from its pouch. Then he cleared his throat, before drawing his wand and casting the _Sonorus_ charm on himself.

"Hear ye, hear ye," he began, feeling slightly ridiculous as he rang the bell three times. But since the archaic words were a matter of tradition, he endured it. "The service is about to begin."

He repeated the call twice, ringing the bell thrice with each call. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry, Wolfe, and the women excuse themselves and follow the old centaur to the ceremonial site, this time also accompanied by a quartet of musicians. Doc's brother and two witches each carried a violin, while a tall wizard carried a contrabass.

He waited for everyone to gather around. There were about sixty people. 

"Let us follow the pathfinders to the ceremonial site."

With that, the procession set off towards the clearing deeper in the forest. Ron had a feeling they were taking the scenic route, and guessed that the centaurs probably lived very close by and wanted to keep the exact locations of their favourite dwellings a secret. After roughly ten minutes, they arrived at a large clearing in the forest. He could see the ceremonial circle, and he knew he had to go to where Wolfe was standing, holding his ceremonial staff.

As the Guardian, it was Wolfe's task to establish safe passage into the circle.

"Please move sunwise within the circle to make room for those behind you," Wolfe instructed, barring the possibility for anyone to move counter clockwise by blocking the way. Millie and Susie took it as a challenge and tried to dart past Wolfe, but he'd anticipated their defiant act and levitated them with wand-less magic. Their legs futilely kicked in the air a few times before they gave up, glaring at Wolfe. Bill and Charlie plucked the girls out of the air and carried them around the circle, while their grandmother hissed a few threats.

It took another seven to eight minutes for everyone to enter. Not every adult grabbed a ribbon. Couples like Parvati and Wood, and Neville and Eloise, chose to share a ribbon. As the people chose their ribbons, Wolfe suggested that they charm their names on them, to allow Harry and Ginny to remember their attendance in the future. When everyone was in the circle, Wolfe 'closed' the gateway, and Ron turned to follow the pathfinder centaurs to the bridal tent.

*

"Ginny, Heidi . it's time!" Ron called from outside the tent.

With a violently flip-flopping stomach, Ginny rose from her stool. She turned to Heidi and accepted an elaborate bouquet bound in gold and white ribbon.

Most people simply followed the custom of bridal bouquets without understanding the meaning behind them, but to those few who knew the intricate language of flowers and herbs, Ginny's bouquet was a brilliant example of floral metaphor. A dozen roses in three colours dominated the arrangement: creamy white, symbolising worthiness and perfection; golden yellow, for friendship and absolute achievement; and deep red, for harmony and passionate love. The spaces between the roses were filled in by sprays of forget-me-not, signifying true love, orange blossoms for marriage, lavender for devotion, and ivy for fidelity.

"How do I look?"

"Not quite as gorgeous as me, but I doubt anyone will notice," Heidi said exasperatedly. "Ginny, you look beautiful, all right? How about _my_ gown? Is the bodice still laced up properly? With all the bending I've been doing."

Heidi's gown was made of velvet in a rich golden yellow reminiscent of sunlight on a warm summer's day. A snug bodice with fitted sleeves and a low V-neckline trimmed with a thin band of embroidery flowed into a full skirt that just brushed the tops of Heidi's dainty slippers. A long girdle of ivory silk cord was slung low across Heidi's hips, the tasselled ends dangling just above the hem of the skirt. A simple chaplet of white and yellow flowers crowned Heidi's hair. The garb radiated an air of warm and welcoming friendship, a perfect complement to Ginny's own gown.

"It's fine," Ginny said.

"All right, then. Come on, we can't keep the guests waiting."

Her brother's impatient expression melted into an uncharacteristic look of tenderness as he beheld Ginny in her dress.

"Ginny, you look beautiful," he said in a barely audible voice.

Ron's reaction dispelled Ginny's anxiety a great deal. She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

Heidi cleared her throat, looking at Ron expectantly.

"You look nice too, Heidi," Ron said quickly.

"Thank you," Heidi said. Then she stepped towards Ginny and gently lowered her veil in place, tugging at it here and there to get it just right. 

Ron offered her Ginny his right arm. "Shall we?"

Nodding, Ginny took his arm.

"Lead the way," Ron told the centaurs. 

A grey-bodied male took the lead while the remaining six fell into place at either side of Ron, Ginny and Heidi, forming an honour guard of sorts.

Ginny initially kept a close eye on the path, looking out for anything that might snag her dress. But the path seemed to have been cleared of any debris that normally lay on a forest's floor, and after what seemed like an eternity, the clearing harbouring the ceremonial circle appeared behind the tree line. As they cleared the trees, the lead centaur stepped aside while the others fell back.

"This forest's centaur community offers you its blessing," the centaur whispered as Ginny passed him.

Though Ginny was surprised, she remembered to answer. "Thank you."

When they had reached the perimeter of the circle, a quartet of violinists began to play what Heidi had told her would be the _Bridal March_, by a Muggle composer named Wagner. In the haste leading up to the wedding, she hadn't had the opportunity to ask Heidi what it sounded like. If Heidi had simply said that they'd play _'Here comes the Bride,'_ Ginny would have known what Heidi had been talking about, instead of worrying whether or not she'd like the musical piece.

Wolfe left Harry's side and met them at the gateway, brandishing his staff. He ushered them in with a bow. Stepping in time with the music, Ron and Ginny moved towards the high altar, where Brother Francis and Harry were waiting.

The gathered crowd gasped as Ginny stepped into the circle, and she was delighted at the expression of stunned awe that crossed Harry's face as he was similarly enchanted by the sight of her. 

Regina had done her work to perfection. The princess-style gown was made of butter-soft ivory silk crepe that flowed from shoulder to floor and playfully whispered with Ginny's every movement. The wide, round neckline was trimmed with a band of knotwork embroidery in gold thread, and the sleeves were made of ivory silk chiffon edged in gold, fitted close at the shoulders but widening to a soft bell-shape at her wrists. An overskirt of the same gold-edged chiffon floated across the ground as it followed Ginny wherever she walked. A belt decorated with embroidery similar to that at the neckline rested on her hips, cleverly hiding the seam between the bodice, underskirt and overskirt; the belt's free end hung down in front to just above the floor. The ensemble was completed with a veil made from a wide circle of more of the gold-edged ivory chiffon, held in place with a circlet of delicate gold wire and pearls.

For his part, Harry looked very dashing in his silver and black dress uniform, identical to the uniforms worn by Ron, Wolfe, and the other male Rangers in attendance.

When they had reached the high altar, Ron kissed her hand and placed it in Harry's, before retiring to the outer circle, where he'd witness the ceremony with the rest of the family.

Wolfe returned to the high altar and lay his staff down in front of it. Then he produced the rings and placed them on the small plate upon the altar.

When Wolfe had taken his place to Harry's right, Brother Francis raised his arms and spoke the blessing. "Great Maker, grant Your blessing upon these two, who have come before You, to celebrate the sacrament of marriage in front of their friends and loved ones. So mote it be!"

Everyone murmured the blessing.

"Now we shall introduce Harry and Ginny to the Elemental Powers to seek their blessings upon this enterprise," Brother Francis said, gesturing for Heidi to lead the groom and bride around the circle.

She led Harry and Ginny to the East, where Hermione stood behind the altar. "Hail, fields of the East!"

Hermione raised a small bowl of Earth. "What is it you seek from the Powers of Earth?"

Ginny knew it was her turn to speak. "We seek your blessings and guidance for our marriage."

Hermione sprinkled a little bit of Earth on the backs of Harry and Ginny's hands while she recited her blessings. "Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the East. Strength to do what you must do, when you must do it, and together as one. Fertility, in all its many forms and manifestations. Stability, such that you can always meet your family's needs."

Hermione replaced the bowl on her altar and offered Heidi a green ribbon. Then she motioned the party onward, and Heidi led them to the South altar.

"Hail, fires of the South!"

"What do you seek from the powers of Fire?" Fleur asked.

"We seek your blessings and guidance for our marriage," Harry said.

Ginny handed her bouquet to Heidi, before Fleur handed Harry and Ginny a lit candle to hold together.

"Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the South. Shared discoveries as a family experiencing new things together. Inspiration to find new ways to surprise one another. Opportunities to take on new ventures, and receive great rewards, together."

She collected the candle from Harry and Ginny and placed it on her altar again.

After having received a red ribbon from Fleur, and giving Ginny her bouquet back, Heidi led Harry and Ginny to Hannah, who served as the Keeper of the West altar.

"Hail, waters of the West!"

"What is it you seek from the powers of Water?" Hannah asked.

"We seek your blessings and guidance for our marriage," Harry said.

Hannah lifted the shell with one hand, briefly dipped her other hand in, and then sprinkled drops of water on Harry and Ginny.

"Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the West. Clear understanding of each other's desire. Resolve to stand by each other, no matter what may come to pass. Patience in those moments when your children ask a great deal of you."

Heidi received a blue ribbon from Hannah, and led Harry and Ginny to Angelina, the last Keeper, who represented the element of Air.

"Hail, winds of the North!"

"What is it you seek from the powers of Air?"

"We seek your blessings and guidance for our marriage," Ginny said.

"Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the North," Angelina said while she wafted scented smoke from the censer on the altar towards Harry and Ginny with a large ceremonial fan. "Clear understanding of each other and of yourselves. Knowledge that each day is a fresh start of your life as a family. Joy in teaching your children together and watching them learn about life." 

Angelina put her fan on her altar again, and handed Heidi a yellow ribbon. Heidi accepted it, and led Harry and Ginny back to the high altar.

Brother Francis smiled benignly at Harry and Ginny. "Love is an integral part of life, for without the spark of love, there is nothing to empower the mystery of continuance, and without continuance, all like will cease to be. This is how we came to be, and now we are gathered here together because our parents, and our parents' parents, and so on before them, felt that spark, and empowered that continuance, and made it possible for us to be who we have become.

"So it is today that, in the presence of their friends and loved ones, and the abiding love of God, Harry and Ginny are about to marry one another, and share that spark of love with one another. And perhaps in this moment we too will feel its passage, and again participate in that mystery of continuance that becomes life itself.

"Harry and Ginny wish to declare, in our sight, their formal intent to share their lives and make a family together with their children. In this day and age, many people do not feel the need to make such a declaration. Yet many more still do, for they remain aware of the presence of the mystery that underlies the sacrament of marriage. And they value this presence, and so they make their decision and act on upon it as Harry and Ginny are about to do.

"As they make such a decision, there are some things which we must ask of them. They must both understand what they are committing themselves to, for nobody should stumble into marriage with eyes closed. They must freely consent to their marriage, for any sort of trickery or duress would render such a consent meaningless. There must be no turning back. Both parties to a marriage must fully and passionately intend to stick with it through difficulties as well as through triumphs, lest they grievously hurt each other and the children who trust in their wisdom. From this day forth, Harry and Ginny will hold each other's hearts in their hands. Lastly, in considering their decision to marry. We must ask them what they understand by the word, 'love.' The decision to marry must stem not from material gain, social advantage, or any other extrinsic reward. It must stem from mutual and realistic love. A marriage without love, one far too common, unfortunately, is an empty cup indeed.

"Now, of the matters I just mentioned, the one which matters most is love. The abiding yet surprising, practical yet passionate, mirthful yet reverent love-the difficult and complicated sort of love that we have to grow into. Marriage is a place where we can learn from each other about that love.

"Let Ginny and Harry be not afraid to turn to us all for help when they need it. By coming here together to this wild and wonderful place, we demonstrate that we are willing to stand by them as they consummate this great decision. And even though none of us, least of all _them_, can see what is to come, let us all encourage them as they go forward in hope, trusting in God, their friends, and each other.

"Harry and Ginny are most evidently not afraid of adventure. Look at where they are standing today!" Brother Francis allowed the assembled crowd a chuckle before he continued. "Together they embrace the uncertainty of adventure, awaiting the surprising discoveries which they shall make. Love, this spark of life, is the greatest adventure of them all. And now, let us pray."

Ginny was barely aware of the prayers she was reciting. She wasn't sure whether she was saying the right prayers. She was oblivious to anything but Harry, whose own lips were also barely moving.

When the murmurs of the crowd stopped, she knew that the prayer was over, and that she had to pay attention again. Reluctantly, she broke eye contact with Harry, focussing her attention on Brother Francis again. 

He had taken the large Unity candle from the altar and held it up for all to see, facing Harry and Ginny

"Marriage is unique among the rites of life, in that it is a sacrament which requires not one, but two empowered celebrants. Each celebrant comes to this rite with his or her own history, abilities, empowerment, and hopes. Through the sacred mystery of marriage, all of these things are commingled for the common benefit of the celebrants. And so, in commingling their flames as one, Harry and Ginny now demonstrate their desire to work together as husband and wife."

It was time to light the candle together. Once more, Ginny handed her bouquet to Heidi for safekeeping. Then she and Harry accepted two lit candles that Wolfe had taken from the altar. They had to be magical, since any ordinary candle would have been blown out in the breeze.

Harry's had a golden sun imprinted in its side, while Ginny's displayed the silver crescent of the moon. They represented the male and female aspects of the divine, as it resided in men and women. Bringing the two candles together over the Unity candle, they lit it. Then they handed their candles back to Wolfe, who replaced them on the altar. Heidi didn't return the bouquet. She wouldn't do so until the end of the ceremony. Ginny's heart began to pound faster as she realised that the ceremony's climax was imminent. She had dreamt of this moment for a long time.

"Neither man nor woman is property to be bought or sold, given or taken," Brother Francis said. "And yet, the sacrament of marriage is a contractual act, proposed and consummated by those who wish to share a life together."

"We already talked about this," a child's voice piped up. "Hurry it along, will you?"

Ginny smiled. Deep down, she agreed.

"Susie!" Molly's threatening voice rang out over the crowd's sniggers.

"She's not Susie, I am," the girl's twin protested.

Brother Francis laughed. He seemed highly amused by Millie's interruption. "Now, Molly, I'm sure the child spoke everybody's mind. Don't worry, child. We'll get to the interesting part soon."

"Good, because I'm not getting any younger." Susie, or Millie-Ginny wasn't sure which one-huffed, and the crowd roared in laughter, joined wholeheartedly by everyone save their mortified grandmother.

After the laughter died down, the friar continued. "Bear in mind, however, that the rites of life are the rites of faith, not exercises in legal draughtsmanship. So it is, that we simply ask our friends if they are who they claim to be, if they are free to marry, and if they come of their own free will." He turned to Heidi. "Do you know the name of this woman?"

"She is Virginia Margaret Weasley."

"Can you vouch for her being free to marry this man?"

"Yes, I can."

Brother Francis then turned to Wolfe. "What is the name of this man?"

"He is Harry James Potter."

Can you vouch for him being free to marry this woman?"

"Yes, I can."

"Ginny, have you come here of your own free will and accord, without coercion or false pretence?" the friar asked Ginny.

"I have."

"Harry, have you come here of your own free will and accord, without coercion or false pretence?"

"I have," Harry responded.

Brother Francis gestured to Heidi, who was holding up the plate with the rings, so that they were within Ginny and Harry's reach. 

"Then you may proceed. Harry, only you have the power to marry this woman, your best friend and partner, who stands beside you. Do you now wish to have Ginny as your wife, knowing her as you do?"

Harry looked her deeply in the eyes. "It was at King's Cross. All I had was a ticket, telling me to be at platform nine and three-quarters. No one seemed to know where it was, and I felt hopelessly lost until I heard someone mention Muggles. I turned around and saw a mother with her children. Four boys, and a small girl, holding her hand."

Ginny felt her face warming up. She couldn't believe that Harry had chosen to talk about this.

"The girl wanted to go to Hogwarts so badly, but she was too young, and she had to settle for chasing the train along the platform, until she couldn't keep up. Fate had given me a glimpse of the only girl who would complete me, and the following year, events were set in motion that would entwine our destinies forever. But at that time, I never would have guessed what fate had in store for us. It was both wonderful and terrible, enough to make any other woman run away screaming. But that small girl didn't abandon me, which is why I consider myself the luckiest man in the universe, and dearly wish to have her as my wife."

"Then take your own ring, and place it in Ginny's hand," Brother Francis said.

Harry took his ring off the platter and placed it in Ginny's hand.

Then Brother Francis turned to Ginny. "Ginny, only you have the power to marry this man, your best friend and partner, who stands beside you. Do you now wish to have Harry as your husband, knowing him as you do?"

Ginny swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but Harry's words had moved her.

"I often wondered why you risked your life to save me from the Basilisk, after you found out how dangerous it would be. You were only twelve, but you chose to do what very few would have dared to do. You really became my hero that day. Not the boy who gave my world a reprieve from an evil wizard, but a boy who saved _me_. Over the years I tried to put you in an objective light and downplay your courage, hoping that it would ease the pain of not being in your life like I'd hoped to be, and distance myself from you. Then, it seemed like fate had been listening to my thoughts and feelings, and events conspired to pull us apart. Yet you never gave up on me either, Harry. Yes, I want Harry to be my husband."

Without waiting for the friar's instruction, she took her ring and put it in Harry's hand.

The friar heaved a heavy sigh. "And so we have arrived at the point where vows ought to be exchanged. Now all of you must wonder what I am talking about, and why I am straying from what is commonly seen as the _proper procedure_ of the ceremony. In reply, I bid you to ask yourself what the vows are for. They serve to confirm, in the presence of mortal witnesses as well as the Great Maker's, to take another to be one's beloved partner, and to honour their union with words of adoration and acts of consideration. Though the words may vary, in essence one promises to stay true to another and give unconditional love through good times and bad, and to grow with another through any challenges that might lurk in the future.

"In practice, far too many don't keep this promise, and thus this ritual has been made into a shadow of what it is meant to be. Thus, I believe it is superfluous in Harry and Ginny's case." He seemed to pause to allow his words to sink in, before roaring. "Not only superfluous, but an _insult_"-he dragged the word for additional effect-"to submit this worthy couple to that '_tradition_'." Brother Francis put a mocking emphasis on the last word. Again he stopped speaking for a few seconds, before continuing. "They've actually _done_ all the things that others promise to, but often fail to do in practice. And I dare anyone to disagree!" he finished, letting his gaze sweep around the circle.

Ginny also risked a glance, seeing expressions that ranged from shock to nods of grim approval.

"I didn't think so." Brother Francis smiled. "The circle of friends often reflects the character of the couple within the circle, and I'm sure that my words also ring true for many of the others who are gathered here today, so I apologise for my rant. Now I'd best get down to the exchange of the rings, which are visible and tangible tokens of Harry and Ginny's love for one another."

He turned to Ginny. "Ginny, in consideration of your desire to marry, you may place Harry's ring upon his finger."

With a trembling hand, Ginny slid Harry's ring over his left ring finger.

"Harry, in consideration of your desire to marry Ginny, you may place her ring upon her finger now."

Ginny felt her ring slide over her finger, and a warm feeling of mild euphoria settled over her.

"And so you have both done. So mote it be!" Brother Francis shouted, and the crowd repeated the exclamation.

Wolfe cleared his throat before addressing the crowd. "The handfasting knot, which binds two lovers' hands together, represents their sincere and hopeful intention to make an indissoluble union. Each of us has our own thoughts on the matter, our own words to say, and our own blessings to offer.

"In a moment, you will all be invited to come and add to the knot of handfasting, But first, we will commence with the bride's and the groom's ribbons, which represent the good things that each brings to share in marriage."

Having said that, Wolfe handed the ribbons he'd been carrying to Brother Francis.

"Please, join your left hands."

Harry and Ginny faced each other and held up their hands, placing them palm to palm.

Bother Francis nodded approvingly and tied the white ribbons around their hands. Then he accepted the four ribbons Heidi had been holding and tied those around their hands as well.

Wolfe turned to face the crowd again. "Now you are invited to come and join the bride and groom, and offer your blessings to them. As each of us contribute our ribbon to the knot, we share with Harry and Ginny our love, friendship, and abiding support for the marriage which they are making. Bound together around their hands, the ribbons demonstrate our collective ratification of their decision to marry one another."

When Wolfe had finished, the violins began to play a musical piece to accompany the blessings of the guests.

The guests then entered the inner circle, alone or in pairs, and offered their blessings and congratulations to Harry and Ginny. Gudrun sobbed uncontrollably all through her and Matt's turn, and Professor McGonagall's puffy eyes betrayed that she too had cried at some point during the ceremony.

Finally, when everyone had bestowed their blessing and tied their ribbon around Harry and Ginny's hands, Brother Francis grabbed their hands and raised them for all to see.

"Made to measure, wrought to bind, blessed be these lives entwined! By the powers in me by the elders of our faith, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss now!"

Ginny met Harry's gaze. His eyes mirrored her own in the thought that it had finally happened. They were husband and wife. And then they kissed, and it felt like the first time all over again. She lost all awareness, and when they finally broke apart, she noticed the absolute silence that had befallen the crowd.

She looked around and saw that a mixture of amethyst and golden light kept alternately flashing across the astonished crowd, and it took her a moment to realise that she and Harry were the source of that light, which was fading much more slowly than usual.

"Well," Brother Francis began. "I reckon this proves that we've witnessed the union of a very special couple. I present to the people here assembled, the Potters!"

Enthusiastic cheers and applauding ensued, and it took quite a while for it to finally die down. When it did, Wolfe addressed the crowd once more.

"And now the celebration will continue in the presence of a larger number of guests. Harry, Ginny, the immediate relatives of the bride, the Maiden, and myself will take a head start to be at the receiving line. However, after the Outer Circle's closure, the rest of you may follow the pathfinders to the carriages that are waiting for you at the edge of the forest. We'll see you at the reception."

***

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A/N: I'll answer the reviews now, including answers to questions and remarks made after Chapter 8, if they haven't been answered by the chapter's contents. :-) Oh, and the dress descriptions have been done by my beta, Christine. A special thanks to her.

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LadySiri: Thanks for the heads up. I fixed the error. Good to know that someone is reading my story so carefully.

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Gogirl: I hope the peaceful wedding wasn't too much of a disappointment. I mainly used this fic to wrap up Harry and Ginny's long and difficult road towards marital bliss, and to plant some new plot seeds for the next fic.There _will_ be a rather unexpected twist in the final chapter, though.

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Nya: Maybe.

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nycgal: First of all, allow me to mention that, in the real world, the psychiatric community' is still divided on whether or not Multiple Personality Disorder is real.

Back to the question of Nicolai's sanity. First you have to ask yourself when a person can be considered insane. If you think about it, you'll realise that this term is only used when the individual in question affects society negatively. Well, that's a very simplistic way to put it, but it will have to do for now.

I think that the word _insane_ can't be applied to Nicolai. First of all, his brain is physiologically different from that of a normal human being's. So there is no _sane_ baseline model to measure the 'mental software' against, because the hardware is different. Follow me so far? Secondly, Nicolai seems to have a firm grasp on his condition, and he isn't affecting society negatively.

Still, you'll have to make up your own mind on whether or not he's insane.

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Foxfur: I can't recall in which chapter it was discussed, but they did decide who would give Ginny away prior to Chapter 8. Anyway, Chapter 10 answered your question on that issue. And I also amended my ten-chapter prediction to eleven, ages ago.

As for Ironheart's conquests, who knows? Maybe he's been a good boy in his old age.

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Cosmos Rose: I think Ginny feels that there's no use in letting her longevity get her down at that point in time.

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anon: Maybe.

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Miss Frizz: It's better than some of the published authors _I've _read, too. But I aspire to become even better.

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Kalen: Ah, okay.

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The Keymaker: Thanks.

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Angie: I don't have a bio on each original character, but I do plan to post a compilation made by Foxfur about all the characters and their first appearance in the story.

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The Bronze Snidget: A lot of people seem anxious to find out what Ginny's powers are. :-) I had no idea that I'd stir up so much curiosity.

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Angel of the Flames: I couldn't see anything wrong with the phrasing. ;-) And no, I couldn't resist.

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Chloe Black: There will be one more chapter, which will entail the reception and a startling revelation about some characters, as well as a teaser for the next fic at the very end.

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jynzx: Good.

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Ferret of Darkness: I hope you weren't too disappointed.

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StarWest45: When in doubt, follow your nose.

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~*Obsessed~with~Snuffles*~: One more chapter. I'll add a teaser to the end of the next chapter, but don't expect to see the actual story until May, at the earliest.

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Fragarach: Yes, I knew that it is Bilbo who actually sings that song in the book.


	11. Chapter XI

Chapter 11

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Ron Weasley, and I'm the Speech Master tonight. The Maiden and Guardian have slaved to make this wedding a reality, and they felt that they weren't the appropriate people to make speeches. Hence this ungrateful task was given to me."

The assembled crowd chuckled. They had waited for everyone to arrive, and the waiters had passed around champagne or any other beverage of choice for those unwilling or unable to drink alcohol. 

"I've been one of Harry's closest friends for about thirteen years. In that time, I've been his partner in crime on many occasions, and in quieter moments, a confidant to whom he can tell anything—which has provided me with ample material for my speech. Now then, Harry—you know what's expected of me, so don't be too upset if, by the time I've sat down, everyone in this room thinks you're a total moron. And if that does happen, I can only take part of the credit because your friends and family already think that."

An even greater part of the crowd laughed, and everyone turned to Ron to pay more attention to the speech.

"I would like to comment on how trim Harry is looking in his uniform, which is actually the result of a fitness regime—apart from his regular exercises—that's seen him do at least fifty push-ups a day for the last two months. But I should mention that none of them have actually been intentional—he's just been collapsing a lot through nerves and stress."

More laughter from the crowd encouraged Ron.

"Harry Potter was born in July 1980, in London, where he fortunately didn't spend any of his formative years. It is interesting to note that shortly after he was born, the hospital was closed for fear that an infection causing male babies to have exceptionally small genitalia was spreading."

Harry winced. Ron clearly hadn't forgotten the embarrassment Harry had put him through the previous year, and he was going all out.

"If I recall my courses of Healing History properly, the outbreak started with a baby boy on March the first of that same year," Ginny shot back, making the crowd truly erupt in laughter.

Ron touched his heart. "My own baby sister, turning against me like that. She's quite a spitfire, isn't she? Good thing Potter's a hero!" Then he gestured towards Matt and Wolfe. "Now I'm going to take the opportunity to congratulate the organisers of Harry's stag do. I, for one, had a blast. The Guardian was courageous enough to put on a sexy dress, wig, make-up, and high heels. But he did flatly refuse the handbag, because he said it didn't go with his shoes. Yes, Wolfe, you looked very desirable. So desirable, in fact, that we had to restrain Harry, before he took advantage of Wolfe."

Lee was doubled over in laughter, holding to the back of a chair to keep from falling.

"If I was to follow tradition, I'd have to quit the embarrassing comments at this point and sing the groom's praises and tell you all about his good points. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can't sing and I won't lie. And we can't overlook the true star of today, my baby sister, Ginny. Yes, even though I'm her brother, and therefore a bit biased, many of you will agree with me that she's a woman of many attributes. Beauty, brains, wit, wisdom and, fortunately for Harry, a disarming love for dumb animals."

"An acquired trait, having grown up with a brother who meets that description," Ginny proclaimed loudly.

The crowd cheered, and some people put down their goblets to applaud.

Ron waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "Despite all the less than complimentary things I said about Harry, he's a super bloke—sometimes he likes to rub it in by flying over the city every chance he gets. But most of all, he is a terrific friend who never ceases to amaze me with his kindness and generosity. I'm afraid that all those less than complimentary things still stand, though. 

"Seriously, I have the highest hopes for Harry and Ginny's future happiness together. Ginny, may you have a long and happy marriage, and may all your dreams come true. And Harry, for your sake, I sincerely hope that all of Ginny's dreams do come true.

"On a parting note, a bit of advice to the groom. Remember who is boss, and never challenge her authority." He raised his goblet. "So here's to marriage, that happy state when two people become like a pair of scissors—so joined that they can't be separated, whilst often moving in different directions, but punishing anyone who comes between them. Ladies and gentlemen, a toast to the happy couple. To Harry and Ginny!"

Harry smiled. That had been Ron's speech. All things considered, it hadn't been that vicious. The guests had raised their goblets and toasted to Harry and Ginny. Then everyone had gone to their respective tables.

His gaze swept over the assembled guests. Several large tents had been pitched up close together on the grounds in front of the manor house, allowing the guests to sit in the shade, and shielding them from any bad weather. Waiters skilfully negotiated the round tables, some refilling goblets, others bringing dessert.

Heidi had generously separated the wedding ceremony and the reception to allow the guests of the wedding ceremony an hour's worth of quality time with the married couple. Then Harry and Ginny, along with Molly, Heidi, and Wolfe, had formed a receiving line.

Mrs Weasley had initially been hesitant to be in the line, since it would accentuate the absence of the three other parents. But Heidi had convinced her that she couldn't deprive herself like that, and that the missing parents wouldn't have wanted her to be absent.

In the end, Percy had been added to the receiving line, too. Though he hadn't had any role in the ceremony, the fact that he'd known—or at least _known of_— many of the self-invited strangers, had been a great boon. By placing him at the beginning of the line and having him loudly greet these people, Heidi had provided Harry, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley with a valuable source of warning, thus preventing awkwardness when facing a strange person.

Mary had taken upon herself the task of getting the guest book signed, and she'd deputised Susie and Millie to intercept anyone trying to sneak past them. Those who tried had generally been too embarrassed to shrug off the twins for fear of seeming rude in front of the other high profile guests. Unbeknownst to anyone save Harry, Wolfe, and Doc, who had made the book, it doubled as an early warning system to identify anyone with bad intentions regarding the ceremony, be it disrupting it in some way, or any worse transgression. In light of the other security measures it was hardly necessary, but redundancy in such matters never hurt.

Those responsible for the food had certainly outdone themselves. Harry had never seen such an enormous variety on any menu, and as they finished their meals, the many approving faces among the guests suggested that the quality was at least as impressive as the quantity.

Heidi had also done well in arranging the seating. The better the guests knew Harry and Ginny, the closer they sat to the head table. And now she was taking a well-deserved break to enjoy the fruits of her labour. She was animatedly chatting to Hermione, who also had a place at their table.

"And there were so many people who don't know anything about Harry and Ginny, save some of Harry's deeds. Do you know how many people told me that I looked just as pretty as my _sister_?"

Hermione laughed. "I see your point, though many of the people who _do_ know Harry and Ginny also thought that you were related to the Weasleys."

Mrs Weasley reached across Hermione's place to pat Heidi's hand kindly. "You've certainly earned those compliments, dear. You do look lovely. I've seen many young men here look at you. Isn't there anyone you fancy?"

Though Harry hadn't been keeping his mind open to other people's thoughts, Mrs Weasley's innocent question had been very upsetting for Heidi, causing her to mind to scream the reason for her hurt like a dragon's roar. A few tables away, Jasmine's hand froze halfway to Rosie's mouth as she was feeding her daughter, and a startled Charlie Jr knocked over his goblet. Ironheart, who stood over seventy yards away, abruptly ceased his conversation with the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Even Galatea, who could only pick up the emotion, and not the thought behind it, sensed how upset Heidi was.

In an instant, Harry knew that the present circumstances had contributed to the intensity of Heidi's reaction. Being at the wedding and seeing all the happy couples around her had served as a painful reminder that many of her friends and acquaintances had found happiness, yet she had not. Matt and Gudrun were happy in their eccentricity, and Lilia and Ramos, whom—even though they had married, divorced, and remarried four times during the past two years, sparking a running joke that they were making a stab at Doc's parents' record—had a comfortable love-hate relationship. Then there were the more conventional couples like Ron and Hermione, Faust and Janice, and Lieutenant Montoya's year-long 'not-as-secret-as-either-of-them-believed' relationship with Heidi's colleague in the Diplomatic Division, Claire Cruz. To make matters even worse, several of Heidi's roommates at the townhouse had also found boyfriends outside the Order of Illumination.

But poor Heidi was hopelessly in love with a man she could never have. It was far worse than her situation had been with Harry. First of all, she hadn't met Ginny at the time, and Harry and Ginny hadn't been together. Next—even though there was no way he could be certain, because he hadn't been a Mind Reader at the time—he had a hunch that she hadn't been quite _that_ attached to him. After all, she'd given up when it became clear that there wasn't a future for that kind of relationship, and even more so, her subsequent rivalry with Ginny had also resolved itself quickly enough, once they'd finally managed to talk through their issues with each other. While Ginny had been recovering after her near-brush with death, Heidi herself had recounted their discussion on Caer Sidi. She confessed to him that it had been her jealousy and especially her loyalty to Harry as a friend, along with the accompanying impulse to protect him from being hurt again, that had prompted her verbal attack on Ginny at Harry's memorial service and later started their vicious rivalry, despite Ginny's initial attempt to make peace for Harry's sake when she had first joined the Rangers. Looking back, he still didn't know what shocked him more, Heidi's admission, or his own guilt at the fact that he'd been wrong, yet again, about his assumptions regarding Ginny's feelings and motivations. He'd been able to forgive Heidi immediately, and her genuine relief at being able to make amends to them both had made forgiving himself easier, though it had still taken a while longer. Afterward, relations between the three had rapidly settled into a steadfast friendship, with none of them troubled by thoughts of the past.

__

Now, however, Heidi had to deal with the guilty knowledge that the man in question was not only married, but married to her best friend and stepsister, Galatea. And unlike the situation between her, Harry and Ginny, there was no easy explanation or solution to be found. Moreover, her experiences in creating and then resolving that situation had made her even more sensitive to the current predicament, and fuelled her determination to not be the cause of any similar trouble between Galatea and Wolfe. It had driven her to the brink of insanity, and she had contemplated ending her own life to be rid of the agony. _Galatea_, of all people, had picked up on her pain and talked her out of it, adding to the guilt Heidi was feeling over desiring her husband.

And Wolfe knew! Heidi's distress had loosened a profound anxiety in him, telling Harry all he needed to know. Wolfe knew how Heidi felt about him—with his gift, how could he not—and he was disturbed by the notion that he was causing Heidi so much pain, even though it was beyond his control. But what disturbed him even more was that deep down, he was attracted to Heidi, too. Of course, he was far too disciplined to act on the knowledge that would have spurred his grandfather to cheat on _his_ wife in half a heartbeat. Yet knowing that he could ease Heidi's suffering, but that in doing so, he would indulge himself in the very behaviour that he detested in his own grandfather and betray Galatea, gnawed away at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Molly said. She had read Heidi's expression correctly, though she had no idea why Heidi was so upset. If only she knew…

Wolfe slid back his chair and leapt to his feet, before hastily striding towards the manor house.

The abruptness of his departure loosed another wave of terror in Heidi. It had made her realise that he'd more than likely picked up on her thoughts.

"Excuse me," Harry said, as he made to follow Wolfe.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"Nothing," Harry replied, putting on the best indifferent face he could muster. He knew Ginny wouldn't fall for it, but that she'd also realise that it was more for her mum and Heidi's benefit. "Something just occurred to Wolfe, regarding his Guardian's duties."

He left the grounds and strode into the courtyard, where Celestina's crew was setting the stage. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on Wolfe's magical signature. He could find Wolfe by concentrating on his aura, a side effect of their fusion. To his surprise, he could sense someone other than Wolfe. Ginny was there as well, and he sensed her more clearly than Wolfe. But he shunted that to the back of his mind, knowing that he'd have to solve that particular riddle later. Wolfe had taken refuge in the abandoned brew house, and Harry started on his way there. 

He pushed opened the door to the brew house and was met by the faint odour of yeast. He found Wolfe sitting on an overturned fermentation barrel, with his face buried in his hands.

"There's no hiding from you, is there?" Wolfe muttered.

"Are you all right?"

Wolfe didn't answer right away. He just sat on the barrel for a while, and Harry allowed him to sort out his thoughts. After a few tense seconds, Wolfe finally spoke in an anguished tone. "You don't know how lucky you are to have that bond you share with Ginny—that you're Twin Flames. You'll never have to struggle against any attraction to another woman, because any woman who isn't Ginny will just feel wrong."

Harry certainly hoped that what Wolfe was saying were true, for it would eliminate many possible complications in his relationship with Ginny. But he didn't know much about the Twin Flame bond, so he couldn't be certain. Clearly, Wolfe was having the sort of complications that Harry hoped he'd never have to face.

"I suppose you'd like to know why Heidi feels the way she does about me?"

Harry nodded. "The thought did cross my mind."

"The _spark_," Wolfe paused, contemplating the word, making sure that it was the right one to use. "The first spark between us came after I rescued her from the tribe of cannibal goblins."

Harry was surprised to hear that. It had been a relatively short expedition, lasting only six weeks. Heidi had also taken part in the expedition, to document the practices and customs of the many intelligent beings that lived there. But that had been nearly two whole years ago. "And she's been in love with you ever since?"

Wolfe shook his head. "That was the spark. The flame kept growing since then, and both of us tried to put it out, but it was no use. And Heidi keeps having this recurrent dream about me—about _us_—in which she gives birth to my child. She didn't tell me about that. I saw it in her mind when I tried to find out why she was so hopelessly infatuated with me. She'd been taking as much Dreamless Sleep Potion as is medically responsible to try and stop the dreams. She never tried to seduce me, because she loves Galatea too much."

Wolfe had answered most of Harry's questions, though he still had a few. "Does Galatea know?"

"She knows. She's picked up on _my_ feelings _and_ Heidi's, and she did the math. Hermione suspects too. The way I spoke of Heidi sometimes—gave me away. She's too clever for her own good."

"That's Hermione for you," Harry said. "But Galatea, is she upset?"

Wolfe shook his head. "The strange thing is that she _isn't_ angry."

"You didn't give her any reason to be. After all, you didn't act on your feelings."

"I know, but _that's_ not why she isn't mad. I tried to see what she might be thinking, but I couldn't make sense of her thoughts. I asked my grandfather why, and he told me that when people are in a certain state of mind—like when they're practising Occlumency, but different—their thoughts couldn't be read."

Harry frowned. He'd read something similar when Hermione had forced the notes of past Mind Readers on him. "But you did get an impression, didn't you?"

"Resignation," Wolfe said. "She's resigned herself to something." 

"Well, resignation is in many ways the same as emptying one's mind. You let everything go. I guess that's why you couldn't read her mind," Harry said.

"But I can't believe she's given up on me. I know she still loves me, and I love her too. And I've told her time and again that I'll always love her, and that nothing will come between us. Yet every time I told her, she gave me that look as if she knew something I didn't, and I caught that feeling of resignation again," Wolfe said anxiously. He slid off the barrel and began pacing around. "I can't believe I could betray Galatea like that!"

"When did you betray her?"

Wolfe gave Harry an incredulous look. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Yeah, and I don't have a clue as to how you've reached the conclusion that you've betrayed Galatea."

"Because I have feelings for Heidi."

"You have _feelings_ for Heidi? It isn't just a physical attraction?"

Wolfe sighed. "I wish it were only that."

Harry walked over to the fermenting barrel Wolfe had vacated, and sat down. "Where did these feelings for Heidi come from? They couldn't have come out of thin air. There must have been more than that spark."

"I must have been too preoccupied to notice the change, but when did you become an expert in self-analysis?" Wolfe asked, eyeing Harry curiously.

"The knowledge has been there for a while," Harry said, tapping his forehead with his index finger. "I learned a lot about self-analysis and reflection from the caretakers in the Mirror Realm. It's just resurfacing now that I need it—and don't change the subject."

Wolfe smiled weakly. "All right. As you know, I've seen quite a bit of Heidi for the past year. She and Galatea were like sisters, before their parents found each other and made them stepsisters."

Harry nodded. During Galatea's pregnancy with Robert, Heidi had grown very close to Galatea. And later, when Galatea had been pregnant with Henry, Heidi had been the most frequent visitor to the Wolfe household. She and Galatea had indeed become as close as sisters during that time. "Go on."

"It started shortly before Galatea's second pregnancy. Remember that gang of muggers who briefly operated from the first through the fourth city tier?"

It had been one of the very few smudges on Concordia's relatively pristine history regarding crime. The group had gained enough muscle to intimidate the local Thieves' Fellowship, and their modus operandi had been far more ruthless and violent. The Lord Major had asked the Order of Illumination for help, fearing that the City Watch risked becoming too bloodied in an all out confrontation. In Harry's opinion it had been the right move. They'd taken care of the criminals easily enough, but he'd had to dodge several Killing Curses in the process. The City Watch wouldn't have fared so well. "Yeah, I remember."

"Galatea told me to walk Heidi home, to make sure that she wouldn't be in any danger." A small smile appeared on Wolfe's face as he talked. "We ran into the old Squib lady who collects empty cans for the dwarves' recycling forges. Did you know that she used to have a wizard husband? Muggle-born. Voldemort's supporters in the Balkans killed _him_, along with all their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, during Voldemort's first ascent to power. That's why she's insane—it broke her. But she's a very nice person, you know. She splits most of the Sickles she earns among the people who are even less fortunate than she is."

Though he'd never bothered to read her mind, Harry knew the lady well. She pushed her cart all over the city, going from house to house to collects cans and small, old cauldrons. Ginny dutifully saved all their cans and the neighbours' as well, to give to the lady.

"I didn't find out through Mind Reading," Wolfe said, correcting Harry's assumption. "Heidi always talks to her and invites her in for a cup of tea, when she comes by the townhouse. Anyway, when we got to the townhouse, we found her on the doorstep. Some teenaged bullies had stolen her cart and destroyed it, and the City Watch hadn't done anything about it because they'd been too preoccupied with the mugger gang. So she'd gone to Heidi for help. I tracked them down and fixed their attitudes, and they helped her with her cart for the rest of the summer."

"So _that's_ why they were helping her. Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"Because that day, I learned that Heidi wasn't the snooty aristocrat that I believed her to be. Sure, she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty if the Order would require it, and we knew that she had a catty side to her. But she helps the less fortunate on her _own _time. She arranges clothes for the people who live in the first tier, so they look smarter in a job interview, and she teaches them how to speak and act to improve their chances of being hired. She's even saved a few marriages through mediation. And did you hear about that choir of poor children who beautifully sang all those Christmas carols in the Artists' Square last winter?"

"Yeah, Ginny and I went to listen to them, after Heidi suggested that we ought to. It was very nice." 

"She trained them!" Wolfe said. "That's where Heidi disappears off to, to spend half of her free hours. She doesn't do it to get recognition, like so many of her aristocratic peers do when they're doing charitable work. She didn't tell anyone about it. I didn't tell you, Harry, because I knew that if I did, you'd find out how I feel about her. And it's tearing me up. If it hadn't been for Galatea, I wouldn't even be able to _feel_ this way about anyone at all. And I repay her by…"

Wolfe couldn't finish the sentence, though it was clear what he meant. Harry sympathised with his friend's plight. He had real feelings for Heidi, and many other men would have acted on those feelings, especially if they knew, like Wolfe did, that the woman felt the same way.

Now he had to find out the reason why Heidi felt the way she did about Wolfe, and where those dreams were coming from. He could assume that those dreams were a subconscious manifestation of Heidi's desires. The best way to find out would be to ask Heidi, but since Wolfe might have read the reasons in her mind at some point, it couldn't hurt to ask him. "Did you ever read some of her conscious thoughts about you? The dreams have to come from somewhere too, right?"

"My looks didn't hurt. But for the most part it's the new me—the way I've become after Galatea fixed my mind. She likes the way I treat Galatea, and the way I play and interact with Robert when I have time. And that's what's so rotten, because she wouldn't feel that way about me…"

"If Galatea hadn't healed you, emotionally," Harry finished.

Wolfe nodded.

"So your feelings for Heidi stem from the fact that you've found out that she's a very nice person—almost like Galatea, right?"

"I never looked at it that way, but now that you mention it, I suppose you're right."

Harry smiled. "I brought it up because I had a hunch that you'd never looked at it quite like that. It's nice to have some perspective, isn't it?"

"It helps," Wolfe admitted. "But I see what you're getting at. You're saying that the only reason I'm attracted to Heidi is because I see Galatea in her. Unfortunately the problem runs a little deeper than that. That spark I told you about…"

"What about it?"

"I never felt that with Galatea."

Harry hadn't expected this. It made matters more difficult. "Then why did you get together with Galatea?"

"I was comfortable with her. She helped me in a way that no one else could. And I _do_ love her." Wolfe struggled to find a way to explain it in words. It was a difficult concept, and Harry queried his mind to see what he was trying to say.

He found it hanging around elusively in Wolfe's thoughts—the difference between Heidi and Galatea, as Wolfe perceived it. A comparison would be the best way to explain it. "You love Galatea like I love Hermione. Well, maybe a bit differently, since you've been intimate with Galatea, and she was instrumental in healing your mind. But that's about right, isn't it?"

"Close enough," Wolfe nodded.

"To put it poetically, Galatea lacks that spark to light your passion," Harry said, and decided to take things one step further. "If you hadn't had such a traumatised youth and so many tough experiences in your early years as a Ranger, Galatea wouldn't have had to heal you. You wouldn't have developed that level of intimacy with her if you'd been mentally—" he hesitated, hoping that Wolfe wouldn't be offended, but there was no other way to say it. "—sound."

"Yeah."

"Heidi wouldn't have been able to heal you like Galatea has, but would have been a better match for you under different circumstances, having a more fiery spirit, right? And then, after Robert and Henry, the circumstances _were_ different. You're happy now, and your mind has healed to a great extent. That's why you feel an attraction to Heidi, and it's also part of the reason why Heidi's attracted to you, if you read Heidi's mind correctly." 

"You've pretty much summed up the problem," Wolfe said morosely.

"But leaving Galatea for Heidi is out of the question, because she healed you—not to mention the fact that you have two small children with her."

"Exactly."

Harry shook his head. "You _do_ have a problem."

"And you don't have a solution for me."

"I'm afraid not. You'll have to work one out with Galatea."

"But I can't tell her how I feel about Heidi!"

"If she indeed already knows, like you suspect she does, she'll appreciate your honesty. The best case scenario is that she'll let you be with Heidi, if that's what will make you happy."

"But I'm not _unhappy _with Galatea. I'd have been perfectly content with the status quo if … if—"

"If you hadn't known how Heidi felt about you? If you hadn't known how much it hurts her, thinking that she could never have you? It's the curse of our ability, Wolfe. You should talk to Galatea about this. She might be a bit hurt, but she'd gladly let you go if it would stop the torture you and Heidi are in. You _know_ she would."

"But what about Galatea?" Wolfe argued. "She wouldn't have anyone."

"She'd still have your children. And if you set each other free, she'd have the chance to find someone else to share her life with."

As Harry said that, he felt Wolfe's resistance to that idea.

"Why do you feel uncomfortable about that?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "You want Heidi _and _Galatea, don't you?"

"I don't want _just any man_ to take part in raising my children."

"Galatea has better judgement than that, _and you know it_," Harry admonished. "Your ego is getting in the way. You don't want her with another man. It's a natural reaction. You don't want any other bloke to have her, even if she isn't the perfect woman for you. And deep down, you wouldn't mind having both of them."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? I can read you, Wolfe. If you thought you could get away with it—"

Wolfe threw up his hands. "All right, guilty as charged. We're not all special, like Harry Potter."

"There's no need to get hacked off at me. I'm just saying that if you want to end Heidi's misery, _and your own_, you'll have to make some allowances and get used to the idea of Galatea being with another man."

"There has to be another way … a way that I can forget my feelings for Heidi. Maybe a Hate Potion," Wolfe said stubbornly.

"How would Heidi feel if all of a sudden the man she loves started to hate her guts?"

Wolfe blinked. "I have some thinking to do."

Harry nodded. "I understand. I still expect to see you around later. You'll have to dance with the bride."

"I'll be around later," Wolfe said.

"Promise?"

"Guaranteed."

*

Celestina Warbeck announced the cutting of the cake, and after Harry and Ginny had cut out the first slice and fed each other during a blinding moment of photo flashes, the seven tiers of the bride's cake had been separated from one another to facilitate their serving. For the next half hour, the six Mrs Weasleys were busy serving the slices of cake to the three-hundred or so guests, since Molly had insisted on them doing so. They had barely put down their knives when the Bridal Dance was announced.

Hermione excused herself a path through the amassed crowd until she reached Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the bridal party. Max was tense, and Hermione noticed that he was trying to avoid looking at Heidi. That convinced her even more that there was something going on between them. Heidi, and by extension Max's reaction, to what Molly had said earlier about anyone catching Heidi's eye, had left certain question marks in her mind.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Celestina began, as the band behind her struck up a merry tune. "It's an honour and delight to perform for these two very special people. Ginny and Harry, come on up to the dance-floor."

The guests applauded while Ginny dragged a suddenly very reluctant Harry to the centre of the dance floor. Hermione smiled. Despite everything, Harry was still a bit reluctant to be the centre of attention.

Celestina opened up with a song, singing it at a slow pace. Harry had soon forgotten about being the centre of attention, having eyes for Ginny only. They danced for a few minutes, until Celestina called the bridal party to the dance floor and instructed the band to continue the song in a more upbeat tune. Since the bridal party had consisted of five women and only two men, Percy and Bill stepped onto the dance floor with their wives, while Charlie took Angelina's arm. Molly, the mother of the bride, had been a bit unsure about what to do until Aberforth grabbed her and pulled her onto the dance floor.

The couples twirled around like that for a few more minutes, changing dance partners several times. Surprisingly, Aberforth easily kept up with the rest of them, briefly groping Hermione's bum in a playful manner to drive home the point that he was young at heart. Finally, she twirled back into Ron's arms as Celestina invited the rest of the guests onto the dance floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Heidi and Max immediately break up and move off the dance floor.

"Hermione, Heidi came up with a great idea. There was enough food here to feed fifteen hundred people. Eighty percent of the food will be left over. Would you mind helping us wrap it up and going down to the first tier of the city when the party's over? Harry and Ginny said that they'd join us there for about an hour before they go off on their honeymoon," Ron whispered.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She'd agonised over the elitist nature of the reception many times over. This would be an excellent way to let the less fortunate of Concordia take part in Harry and Ginny's big day. It wasn't as if anyone went hungry in Concordia, but she was sure that a feast of that magnitude would be the evening of a lifetime. "Why hadn't I thought of that?"

"Yeah, it took me by surprise too when Heidi told me about it. If nothing else, it will be a major publicity stunt. It's great for the Order's image."

"It's a lot of food. We'll need help transporting it."

"We've got the family, except for Angelina and Jasmine. All the kids will be sleeping at our house until we return. Jasmine and Angelina will look after them. Wolfe can multiply himself, so he'll be loads of help. Heidi and Wolfe are off recruiting more people from the Order. I'll ask our friends from Hogwarts to help too."

"I'll talk to Harry about saving the garter and the bouquet for that party. It'll add an extra touch to the gesture. You talk to Ginny!"

"Right," Ron nodded, and they edged their way closer to Harry and Ginny.

*

That was how they found themselves on the Merlin Memorial Square in Red One, the poorest part of Concordia. Most of the guests who had attended the wedding ceremony had gone with them.

The charioteers had been a bit reluctant to fly into the city again. Matt had been about to offer them hefty 'compensation,' when Padma stepped in and subtly hinted that co-operation would get them lofty reviews in the next edition of the Concordian Chronicle.

Many sleepy faces poking out of windows had gaped with awe as a dozen carriages and several large flying carpets laden with food, descended into the neighbourhood, surrounded by swarms of fairies. Heidi didn't have to knock on too many doors to spread the word. The news jumped from home to home, and minutes later people from all over the neighbourhood congregated in the square, setting up tables, chairs, and a high-backed, flower-covered wicker loveseat for Harry and Ginny, who appeared soon after the initial landing. Harry was still wearing his dress uniform, while Ginny had changed into a white, open-backed gown.

Hermione failed to hide her surprise as dozens of people came up to Heidi to greet her. All of them knew her by name, and acted as if they knew her well. The can-collecting lady came up to Heidi and hugged her, crying on her shoulder and speaking to her in German.

"You'd better close your mouth before a fairy wanders in by accident," Wolfe said, appearing beside as unexpectedly as only he and Harry could appear. "You thought Heidi was doing this to improve the Order's image, didn't you?"

"She _knows_ these people!"

"Yeah. Amazing, isn't she?"

Hermione quickly shot Wolfe a sidelong glance and saw the way he looked at Heidi. It wasn't obvious, but it was there.

"What about Galatea?"

"I love Galatea, and I won't leave her."

"Heidi feels the same way about you, doesn't she?"

Wolfe nodded.

"Are you sure about your decision?"

"My feelings for Heidi aren't just a crush. They're very real, and that's what makes this so difficult. But I've made my choice, and I'll stick with it," Wolfe said. Then he held out his hand to her. "Doc and some of the people from the neighbourhood have formed a band and they're about to start playing. Do you want to dance?"

Hermione nodded, and they strolled to the centre of the square together. There were a few local people getting ready to dance, but for the most part, they were digging into the food.

Doc started playing a merry tune of his violin, and the people on the square formed a circle and began to dance. Hermione laughed as Ron, dancing opposite her between two local women, kept tripping over his own feet. Wolfe was doing pretty well, much to Hermione's surprise.

"It's the same as the footwork in a kata routine," he shouted in explanation. "It's not that hard."

They danced, the circle growing as more people joined in. Then people formed another circle around them, and yet another circle was formed around _them_. The second circle always moved in the opposite direction of the first circle, and the outer circle kept mimicking the first circle. Flashes of light alerted Hermione to the arrival of the media.

Ginny and Harry tossed the bouquet and threw the garter respectively. The bouquet landed in the arms of the can-collecting lady while the garter fell around the tip of Aberforth's hat.

The explosion of fireworks—Aberforth had decided to save the bulk of them for the poor people to enjoy—heralded the ending of the short, yet energetic celebration.

People swarmed around Harry and Ginny, thanking them for remembering their neighbourhood. Heidi hadn't even taken credit for it, though it had been her idea. They didn't bother correcting the people, probably on Heidi's own request. Then Ginny's angelic wings sprouted from her back, and she and Harry took off into the starry sky.

The exit had left Hermione breathless. This had been a wedding that people wouldn't forget any time soon.

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Fin

Author's Note: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed chapter by chapter. For those of you who have read but didn't review (I know you're out there, since I can see that you have me on author alert) I'd really appreciate some feedback on your overall thoughts on this fic. 

Special Thank Yous are again warranted for my betas, Anne (pen name: Ashwinder) and Christine, who have sacrificed their own precious time to beta-read this story. And now on to the review comments.

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Angel of the Flames: I consulted quite a few sources on Pagan handfastings, and I came across one that would be suitable for attendance by the uninitiated. Then I adapted it to fit my purposes. But no, I didn't conjure it up all by myself.

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Gogirl: The story's almost over? Noooo! Anyway, I wasn't saying that cliffies are a bad thing, but they are when they're obviously cliffyish, catch my drift?

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AmethystStar's: Glad you liked it.

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Chloe Black: May was an optimistic prediction. It all depends on my inspiration.

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nycgal: Same way I did last time. My beta, Christine.

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The Bronze Snidget: Thanks. :-)

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mentosadidasgirl17: Pop ups, yeah, very annoying.

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Lord Dreadnault: I try.

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Cosmos Rose: The ceremony was based on one in real life. And yes, no doubt the implications of long life will catch up to Ginny at some point.

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Lion of Gryffindor: Ginny's engagement ring shattered because it was charmed to reflect her love for Harry. Ginny's bond to Harry is so strong that, when her heart broke, the diamond shattered. The ring at the end was a different ring, one given to her earlier. With some power left by Holly, she changed the ring subconsciously.

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The Keymaker: So what did you think about the twist?

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LadySiri: Prettiful? Is that new slang?

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Fragarach: :-)

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Foxfur: Your insight served you well, again. Let's see if you've anticipated the events in the teaser. *evil cackle* BTW, though Christine deserves a lot of credit, it was Anne who made me rewrite the first kiss. 

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If you prick us, do we not bleed?

It felt like he had no blood left in his body. Though broken, his heart still pumped. But it pumped cold hatred instead of warm blood.

There had been blood everywhere. It had poured out of three bodies onto the white stone floor, mingling to form one large pool. That's how he'd found her, with her beautiful lapis lazuli eyes wide open, staring unseeingly into space, devoid of all life. Her long white hair had been spread out over the floor like a blood-soaked silver and red halo. Her belly had been cut open in a crude caesarean section, and her child had been ripped out. Inside the wound there had been a purple-flowered herb. The perpetrator's calling card, Aconite … also known as Wolf's Bane.

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If you tickle us, do we not laugh?

He'd never laugh again. If there was a benevolent deity, it had to have a sick sense of humour. Sunshine streamed through the crematorium's skylight. It was April Fool's, and the weather was mild and sunny. The emergence of new life went completely against his feelings, mocking his pain … mocking her death. 

The elder boy was crying, upsetting the younger by doing so. He kept asking his aunt what had happened to his mother. He didn't understand that she'd never be coming back. He didn't understand that he'd been deprived of his last remaining grandparent, as well as his mother.

It shouldn't have happened, but it had happened anyway, because he had strayed from the path destiny had shown him. Master Lei had always told him that the battle had chosen him, and that allowing others into his life would be to endanger them. In spite of that warning, he'd settled down with the woman who had shown him the meaning of love, and had taught him that it wasn't always easy to understand. A benevolent deity would have considered that to be a good thing, but instead he'd taken her away.

He glanced at the redhead holding his sons' hands. She too was suffering because he'd allowed himself to be caught off guard. Her mother had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time, but she'd been killed along with her husband and stepdaughter anyway.

Wolfe had waved their killer's threats and curses away with contempt, disregarding the caution Master Lei had instilled in him over the years. That was probably why Master Lei's lessons had been haunting his dreams for the past week, particularly those concerning Machiavelli's wisdom. Machiavelli considered it a mark of great prudence in a man to abstain from threats or any contemptuous expressions, for neither of those weakened the enemy. Instead, threats made the enemy more cautious, and contempt excited the enemy's hatred, and a desire to exact revenge. He'd done it to himself. He hadn't taken his foe seriously, and he'd dismissed her as a threat to him.

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If you poison us, do we not die?

Medea Aconit must have had outside help with breaking out of Azkaban unnoticed, and there was only one wizard alive who had the means of accomplishing such a task. Leaving Yamato as a loose end had been a mistake.

Wolfe balled his fists. He knew why they had targeted Galatea, aside from the fact that she'd been vulnerable, away from Concordia. They had tried to break him—and they had succeeded. They had broken Max, the father and husband. But in doing so they had revived Wolfe, avenger of their innocent victims. They too should have minded Machiavelli's wisdom. If an injury had to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. But those who had wronged him had plenty to fear.

And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

Wolfe's Bane. 

Rated **R. **

Coming May 30th, 2004.


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